Perilous Risk (16 page)

God, oh, God. He’d never wanted anyone more. Never known hunger like this.

“Let me please you.” Her voice was soft, seductive yet completely submissive.

Lust pounded painfully through his loins again. He focused his mind on the task at hand. The need to gain her complete surrender before this night was over. Not only the surrender of her body but the surrender of her mental will. He had to completely enthral her.

Yes, he knew something of Rebecca’s carnal proclivities. He’d been obsessed with learning everything about her. And a brief conversation with an inebriated and very talkative Lady Cherry Scott years ago had proved most educational.

Sex had always been just a part of service to his King and country. Seduction had been one of the things he’d been taught upon being recruited into his clandestine work. It had been just another means to his ends, applied to whatever degree suited the personality of the target. Never merely for his own pleasure or inclinations.

He enjoyed carnal relations, with some people more than others, of course.

And he’d managed to enthral many a target over the years.

But Rebecca was special.

And
she
had held
him
in thrall all these years…

Now she wanted to give him oral pleasure. Dear God. Having had his fingers inside her and felt the tightness of her cunt squeezing and squeezing him as she got closer and closer to her climax…well, nothing but being inside those hot, sweet walls was going to do. And when he took her, it would be done properly, in a proper bed.

And he was going to be damned sure that by the time he was done, she was completely under his spell.

A man didn’t achieve that with a woman by giving her a quick fuck in a rolling carriage.

In the past, when he knew he would have to seduce a target, he would masturbate several times over the preceding forty-eight hours to drain himself of desire so that he could focus clearly on the work to be done. For that is what it had been to him: work.

But how could he ever drain himself of desire for Rebecca?

“Please, Stephen…” Her voice was almost ragged with her panting breath, a raw, needy sound that sent fiery surges of pained desire deep in his balls, his cock, his whole damned body…all of him seemed to ache with the pounding of his blood into his loins.

“I have been told that I am very good at it.” She bit her lip, staring at him with those large, pale blue eyes. “Very, very,
very
good.”

God.

Christ.

Damn…

He struggled to keep his expression impassive.

“Not this time. Here.” He pulled gently on her hands. “Sit beside me like a good little wench. Let’s discuss matters.”

“What matters?”

“Matters between us.”

On a sigh, Rebecca let Stephen guide her to the seat beside him.

He smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Are you cold?”

She scarcely noticed if she was cold or not. She was burning so hotly with desire. She shook her head.

But he leant across to the other seat and retrieved her wrap and draped it over her shoulders.

At his nearness, with his scent permeating her senses, thwarted desire crackled along her every nerve ending and boiled in her blood and increased that throbbing ache in her pelvis. She swallowed back a moan and crossed her legs, squeezing and squeezing against the ever-worsening pressure.

He was studying her closely, his expression so serious. “Your skin looks as delicate as the finest porcelain. I almost fancy that I daren’t touch you, elsewise I shall mar it.” He feathered his fingertips over her cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”

Hunger rang in his voice. She glanced down at the bulge his lap. . “I could please you.”

“You please me.”

Unable this time to suppress a little sound of frustration, she frowned. “Why not, Stephen, why?”

“Shh, be a good girl for me.” He leant close and his claret-scented breath tantalized her senses. “Kiss me, Rebecca.”

She stared at him dumbly. She was offering him a French and he wanted a
kiss
?

“Obey me.”

The unrelenting edge in his softly spoken words sent flutters into her belly. A little laugh welled up in her throat and she placed her hands on either side of his face. Stubble prickled her palms.

She leant up and put her mouth on his. Again, there was the sense of shock at the lush firm-softness of his mouth. Every kiss with him would be like that. Pure sensual luxury.

But how many kisses would she share with him?

Sudden determination to make this one count spurred her on and she opened her mouth, tracing his lips with her tongue, slowly, oh so slowly.

Did she imagine that he was shaking?

Surely she was shaking. Oh God, she wanted him like she had never wanted anything in her life. Well, maybe if she pleased him with her kiss, he would relent.

She let her tongue snake its way into his mouth, teasing him, leading him into her own mouth.

Wetness flowed from between her legs. She moaned, deep in her throat.

He lifted her skirts to her knees. Plunged his hand beneath them and slid it along her thigh. He touched her mons.

She moaned and grasped his shoulders.

He nipped her lower lip.

“You are so hot and wet and luscious.” His voice was impassioned. The most ardent passion she’d ever heard in a man’s voice.

He entered her with two fingers. Quickly, harshly, almost brutally. But she was so slick, so swollen with hunger, that she spread her legs wider, her flesh clenching and clenching.

“That’s it, sweeting, show me your need.”

She canted her hips. “Oh, oh, oh!” She writhed and the fine leather beneath her bare bottom made soft, sumptuous sounds.

Tension built and built within her loins. “Please, please…”

“That’s it, sweeting, beg me.”

“Oh, yes, please.”

“What will you give me in return?”

“Anything, anything.” She shuddered with a pang of need. “
Everything
.”

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” He withdrew his hand and cupped her entire cunny in his large, long-fingered hand. “You’re going to surrender this to me?”

“Yes, yes, I’ve already done so,” she said breathily.

“Will you give me the right to punish you?”

A laugh welled up in her throat and crossed with a moan. “Gladly.”

He brushed her straining, aching nub with his thumb.

Intense star-bursts of fire shot from that spot, up through her belly and down her legs. She curled her toes, shuddering all over.

“And will you promise me your obedience over the next fortnight?”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, my, I don’t know.”

He rubbed her more intently.

Pure boiling honey streamed from her sex. She curled her toes ever tighter and balled her fists. Oh, God, it was good, oh so good.

And she was close. Very close.

“Just say yes, my darling.” His deep voice vibrated into her bones, intensifying her rising pleasure.

“I think a vow like that is going to take a little more than just your thumb.” She spoke haltingly, between panting breaths.

“Be specific, Rebecca.”

“A promise like that should only be given in exchange for a good, hard rogering.”

He laughed. “You are a wicked girl.”

“Well?”

“When we arrive at our destination and we bed down, I promise I’ll give you a fucking you’ll never forget.”

“That’s hours from now.” She couldn’t keep the anguish out of her tone.

“So?”

“So, I might come to my senses by then, Stephen.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, increasing the speed with which he stroked her.

She writhed, working her hips, meeting his strokes, rubbing herself, frantic with the need to make contact with his hand again and again, faster and faster. Sensation flamed within her. Oh, oh, oh, she had never needed to come so badly. Her tension built to an unbearable degree.

The first licks of release stabbed through her. Feeling herself about to slide over the edge of bliss, she caught her breath.

He stopped and withdrew his hand.

She gave soft, whimpering moan.

“Shh, my darling.” He rested his hand gently against her mons. “You knew my rules from the start.”

She knew a sinking sense of desperation. “You want me to burn.”

“Yes.”

They both remained quiet then, with only the rhythmic sounds of the carriage moving along to fill the silence. Slowly, all that glorious sensation turned into a painful, congested sort of pressure.

Yet, maybe she could seduce him. Hope flared within her.

“Stephen…”

He smoothed her hair off her face. “What, my darling?”

“Let me please you.” Her softly spoken plea quavered with desire.

He caressed her head, lingering over the silken tresses.

Encouraged, she touched his leg. His muscles went rigid and he inhaled sharply. She began to slowly slide her hand up.

He grasped her hand.

Not too gently.

“If you don’t stop that, I will take your hands and bind them together.” His voice sounded so gentle but underneath lay the determination of a serious command.

Anticipation tingled through her, its intensity taking her breath. She took her other hand and laid it on his leg.

“It is not an idle threat.”

She slowly moved her hand with her heart pounding harder and harder and harder.

He grasped her wrist and then brought it together with the other one. He easily held both her wrists in one large, long-fingered hand.

It didn’t seem quite the thing to let that go, so she struggled and pulled against his hold.

But his grip was like iron. She had to exert such force that soon she was panting harshly, sweat rolling down her face, between her breasts and her shoulder blades.

He held her wrists and pressed her back against the carriage seat. His stare bore into hers. “Relent.”

There was something cold, hard, determined about his stare.

Predatory.

That was the word that came into her mind. She supposed she should be very afraid.

And she was indeed quite frightened; she had been under the surface all this time tonight. But the excitement, the lust won out.

God, she wanted to be taken by this man. She wanted to experience all of that hardness, that quiet, determined strength subduing her, pounding into her… Oh, God.

God.

She gave a few more half-hearted struggles.

He tugged at his cravat. When he had it free, he crawled halfway over her, pressing his bent leg across her thighs whilst folding the linen into a narrower strip. “I thought you were going to be a good girl for me?”

“You make me feel—” she took a quick breath and licked her lips—“wicked.”

“Wicked, aye?”

“Aye. Very wicked.”

“Well, it is a good thing—” he took her wrists, his touch was caressing, gentle—“that I know how to deal with wicked girls.”

He pulled her arms over her head.

She let him, though her face began to flame, for it was one thing to play these games with men when she knew exactly where she stood with them. But she didn’t know a damned thing about Stephen’s sexual tastes or where she stood with him.

He adjusted her arms behind her head and began to wind the linen strip about them. Awareness of how the position caused her breasts to jut made her nipples grow harder than ever.

He couldn’t help noticing. His gaze kept straying down, his actions slowed.

Hope flared inside her.

He wouldn’t be able to resist her now.

Surely he was a little aroused by the game? Even a man who didn’t tend to favour such games would find it arousing to bind a woman like this. She knew that much about men.

“There.” Did satisfaction make his voice a bit richer?

Or was she hearing that which she wanted to hear?

“Pull for me, sweeting, pull hard.”

She obeyed, tugging against the bindings. Or attempting to tug against them.

He had tied her firmly yet comfortably.

Expertly.

He had done this before.

He was making some adjustment to the binding. “Aye.” Warmth had entered his tone. “There.”

Definitely there was satisfaction this time. It was
not
her imagination.

He sat back on the squabs and watched her with eyes that glittered yet were dark as the ocean at midnight.

She couldn’t help arching her back deeper, displaying herself under his stare.

God, her arousal kept increasing. Her cunt clenching, her wetness slicking down the inside of her thighs. She had never known she could stay so wet for so long.