Patience (7 page)

Patience moaned. The bud of flesh between her legs felt like it was going to explode.

“Did you?”

She stared into Matthew’s dark eyes. “Yes,” she admitted on a whisper. “Yes—so many times.”

“Good.” His jaw tightened and, taking her hand, he drew it between them. “You think you can get your pretty mouth around this?”

Patience gasped as Matthew pressed her hand to his erection. His penis was hard and heavy, and oh so thick. Thicker than Wilson, surely—thicker even than Jeremy Snap, the potter’s son, whose great joy in life was flashing glimpses of his formidable prick at all the young ladies of Lincolnshire. No, neither of those hearty male organs compared to what she was feeling now. Sudden moisture filled her mouth and more trickled from her cunt as she eagerly explored him.

Matthew’s jaw tightened and his hips flexed against her. “Do you want it?”

“Yes.” Patience pressed an urgent kiss to his lips. “Yes, please.”

He gently slipped the crown of flowers from her head while his other hand moved soothingly against her scalp. “How politely you reply,” he murmured. “But, alas, I will not oblige you.”

“What?” Patience drew back in confusion. “But I . . . But I want to . . .”

“You want?” His dark brows lifted. “My sweet Patience, we are not here for what
you
want. We are here for what
I
want.”

Patience blinked and tried to think past the barrage of heady sensations that coursed through her. “But you spoke of knowing my desires . . .”

The softest, most beautiful smile turned his lips. “Yes, I did.” He brushed his mouth against hers. “That’s quite a puzzle, isn’t it?”

Patience gazed into his handsome face and felt her nipples tingle. “I don’t understand.”

He drew her before the warmth of the hearth. “That’s all right. You will,” he murmured gently. He placed her crown of flowers on the mantel then put her gloves there as well. When he turned back to her, something flickered in his hand. “In time, everything will become clear to you. It’s so simple, really.” He stepped close.

She tipped up her mouth for his kiss. But no kiss came. Instead, she felt a firm downward tug upon the front of her gown. She gasped as her low bodice suddenly loosened and slipped from her shoulders. Clutching it, she looked down and saw that Matthew had cut the laces of her provincial-style costume.

His arms came around her. She felt another quick tug at her waist, and before she could grab them, her skirts fell to the floor in a frothy heap.

Taking a step back, he closed a slim knife and put it in his coat pocket. Then he held out his hand to her. “Give me your gown,” he ordered quietly.

Stunned, Patience looked down at her sagging bodice and the circle of fabric at her feet. She thought of refusing, but what point was there to that? As it was, the gown was of no use to her. Indeed, she would have to contrive some repairs in order to leave the chamber.

Shaking, she slipped out of her bodice and scooped up her skirts. At least she still wore her undergarments. She handed the pile of discarded gown to him and then nearly leapt out of her skin when he tossed everything into the fire.

A small cry escaped her. The room immediately darkened. She could hear only her own rapid breathing. And then the fire flared, higher than before, and Matthew was there. His hands reached for her and, with one hard pull, he ripped the fragile fabric of her corset cover. It, too, fed the greedy fire.

She stood, both shocked and enthralled, as she watched her beautiful gown blister into ashes. But when he reached for her pantalets, she grabbed at them. “No,” she gasped.

His brows lifted. “No?” He met and held her gaze. “You will not say ‘no’ to me, Patience. If there is something that you truly cannot abide, and I mean
truly
, then you may say, with due regret, ‘
I cannot oblige you at this time
.’ Is that clear?”

“Yes,” she breathed, and then frowned at the immediacy of her response. Shouldn’t she have considered before answering?

“That’s good,” he said softly. Then, moving his hands to the slit in her pantalets, he sundered the fabric at the center seam.

He muffled her startled gasp with a soothing kiss. It was so soft, so gentle. It seemed in complete contradiction to what he was doing, and yet it seemed completely right. Patience moaned, and her arms went around him. Without the layers of her skirts, his erection pressed hard and firm against her.

“There, you see?” he murmured against her lips. “Everything is fine.” Pulling back, he stared down at her and stroked his fingers across her cheek. “Isn’t it?”

Somehow it was. “Yes,” Patience admitted.

A small, brief smile turned his lips. “Yes, of course it is.” Then, with the aid of the knife, he ripped her pantalets to shreds.

Patience stood in mute amazement, throwing her hands over the triangle of red curls between her legs as the last of her undergarment was torn away. Nothing remained but a few points of fabric peeking from beneath her corset. She raised wide eyes to Matthew when he cut the straps of her chemise so that the high mounds of her breasts were exposed.

As she stared at him, she couldn’t keep back a wondering frown. Though the heat from the fire warmed her bare skin, she shivered—not with cold, but with want. It seemed every shocking thing he did only wound her desires tighter and tighter, until she quivered like a coiled spring.

Matthew stood back to look at her. His handsome face was tense with desire, and his dark eyes reflected the firelight, making them seem to burn from within. “Move your hands,” he ordered.

Patience felt her blood rising to her cheeks and descending to her already swollen clitoris. Her fingers trembled protectively above the nub of pulsing flesh. She couldn’t bring herself to put her arms at her sides. No one had even dared dishevel her, let alone expose her like this.

And yet . . .

“I cannot.” Her voice cracked. She didn’t want to speak the absolute refusal, but she couldn’t move either.

He looked at her and his gaze softened. “I’m afraid you must, Patience, or I will make you.”

Patience squeezed her eyes shut. She should scream at him in righteous indignation. Where was her indignation? She tried to summon it, but found only a hot, undeniable passion in its stead. And yet—she looked down at her hands—she could not move. She shook as body and mind, passion and pride, battled inside her.

Matthew stepped close. “Is it so difficult?” he whispered.

Patience felt sudden tears well. God, she never cried! But she was half naked and vulnerable. It shouldn’t feel good.

And yet it did.

It felt perfect and thrilling.

“Yes.” She lifted her gaze to his and forced back her tears. “Yes, it is difficult.”

A low moan seemed to catch in his throat, and his beautiful eyes locked on to her face with such rapt adoration. It took her breath away. “Ah, my sweet Patience, I worship the struggle in your eyes, and the tears you won’t allow—for I value most that which is not easily given.” He gripped his cock through his trousers and slowly stroked himself. Her womb quivered at the sight, but she raised her eyes back to his as he continued. “Every emotion you feel in the suffering of my commands honors me. I cherish each one. But ultimately”—he let go of himself and lay a gentle kiss upon her brow—“your struggle must always be toward obedience. Now, move your hands.”

Patience’s cunt throbbed with a deep, almost painful, craving; the pulsing bud of flesh that always brought her pleasure tortured her now with its burning desire for release. Every word he uttered enflamed her more, made her want him more.

What was wrong with her? And why must she obey? Why did she
want
to obey? Her emotions warred within her but, somehow, the battle only served to heighten her excitement.

She looked down at her hands again and, with the greatest effort, forced her arms to her sides. Her muscles stiff and rigid with tension, she pressed her fingers against her thighs.

“There,” he whispered. “That’s very good.”

His praise, so quietly spoken, calmed and warmed her. But in the next moment, her eyes stung again at the realization that his simple words could affect her so. What power did he wield over her?

She lowered her head.

“No, Patience. Hide nothing from me.” He tipped up her face and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. “Don’t you see? I covet your every response. Each lovely reaction you experience is a gift to me.” His dark eyes moved over her face with an intensity she had never seen. No one had ever looked at her with such passionate concentration. “Do you begin to see what I want from you?” His warm hands moved up her arms in a soft caress that sent a shiver down her spine. “I want you to give me all that I demand. And I want you to hide nothing from me as you do.”

A rush of desire coursed through Patience’s body, leaving behind a yearning that was tinged with both exhilaration and trepidation.

He stroked his fingers along the tops of her shoulders, then traced them up the sides of her neck to her jaw, tilting it up to him. “I want to see every struggle and every victory. I want to see each precious tear and each magnificent smile.” Lowering his hands, he walked slowly behind her. She shuddered as his fingers curved over her bare bottom, squeezing gently. “I want all of you, every bit of you, for myself.” Patience sighed and closed her eyes as he kissed the tender skin behind her ear. “Do you know why I want this, my sweet Patience?”

She moaned as he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his whole body against her back.

“Do you?”

She leaned back against him as his fingers slid into the red curls over her mount. His erection was hard and strong against her bottom.

“Tell me, Patience.” His fingers slipped lower. Her cunt throbbed. “Tell me, and I’ll touch you as you long to be touched.”

A soft, mewling sound escaped her and her hips bucked.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

Patience drew a gasping breath. “Because it is what
I
want. It is what
I
desire.”

“Yes,” he breathed by her ear. “And what is it you desire?”

God, she tilted her hips but he didn’t move. Why must he torment her?

“What do you long for, Patience? Tell me the secret I already know. Say it out loud.”

Patience bit her lip. Her hips twisted with desire. Say the words. She need only say the words. But what words? “I long to feel more,” she whispered. “I—I long to—to . . .”
To what?

“Submit.” Matthew whispered the word into her ear, but it grew and echoed in her mind.

He came around to face her. “The word is
submit
,” he said firmly.

Yes.
She stared into his eyes as she blinked the sting from her own. She didn’t understand all the ramifications, but that was exactly the word. “Yes,” she breathed.

“Say it.”

“Submit.” Her voice shook. “I long to submit.”

A hot fire illuminated Matthew’s dark gaze. His arms swept around her, and she gasped as he kissed her deeply and hungrily. She tasted him and clung to him. Then her body leapt as, at last, she felt his fingers touching the throbbing, distended nub of flesh that fed her rampant desire.

He pulled his mouth from hers. “God, your clitoris is so full, and your cunt is so wet.”

He held her tightly around her waist while once, twice, a third time he slid his fingers over her sodden folds. And then he was rubbing her. In tight, firm circles he plied her tender bud.

Scorching pleasure shot through Patience’s body. She moaned as she stared into Matthew’s unrelenting gaze. Her fingers curled in the short hair at his nape. She bit her lip as her hips began to rock.

“There. There you are,” he urged. “Come for me.” The thick column of his cock was thrusting against her, short and tight. His jaw clenched as she began to shudder. “That’s my beauty. Come for me—come.”

“Yes,” she panted. “Matthew!”
God! Oh, God!
Her chest heaved and her cunt clenched. Matthew’s body pressed against her. His fingers stroked her. Everything drew up tight within her. Her muscles flexed. She gasped for air. And then her passions broke.

On a sharp cry, her head fell back—and as her hips jerked convulsively against the press of his fingers, she burst into a thousand tiny fragments. Shards of brilliant bliss imbedded themselves in her shattered nerves, where they pulsed and flared with a searing heat. Gasping and shuddering, she heaved against him as he seemed to draw out each smoldering ember and snuff it with his touch—until there was nothing left.

Collapsing against him, she would have fallen were it not for his strong arm about her waist.

Matthew held her for a moment, until her breathing began to slow. Then, bending, he scooped her up into his arms. Patience laid her head against his shoulder as they moved across the room. She felt wonder and amazement. “Thank you, Matthew.”

He stared into her eyes as he laid her against the pillows on his bed. He braced his hands on either side of her. “You’re welcome, Patience.” His jaw was tight, but his voice soft.

He bent to kiss her, and the kiss was as full of passion as their first. Patience curled her arms around him as his tongue plunged deeply. Her heart pounded and she moaned as he bit down on her lower lip and sucked it. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it ended. He pulled away, leaving her wanting more.

She rolled onto her side to watch him cross the room. How gracefully he walked. Opening a door, he disappeared for a moment.

Patience waited. It appeared to be his dressing room. Was he undressing? Her pulse started to race again.

He reentered the room wearing a long, dark robe. White scarves or cravats hung from his hand. He walked purposefully over to her and sat beside her on the edge of the bed.