SubmittingtotheRake (5 page)

Just as she was about to beg him, his hand circled around
her thigh, grazed the soft curls at her mons, and reached for the supple folds
of her quim. She could hardly wait to see what he would do next.

Sebastian was not surprised at how well Miss Merrill had
handled the crop. Wild thoughts ran through his head at the possibilities.
There was so much he could do to her. So much he wanted to do to her besides
fuck her against the post. How exquisite she would look with her entire body
bound in ropes—her arms pinioned behind her, her calves tied to her thighs, her
breasts captured and squeezed. Thus tied, she could learn to take him into her
mouth and down her throat. It would not be easy, but with the proper incentive,
he was confident she was not the sort to give up easily. The vision of his cock
gliding between those plump, tender lips was nearly his undoing.

Containing the force of his lust had been like pushing a
coach and four up a steep slope, but after she had finished convulsing against
the post, when he knew the soreness in her limbs would come alive with a
vengeance, a flood of tenderness had filled him. The sense of satisfaction as
he cradled her in his arms was greater than he could ever remember it being. He
knew not why he felt such a strong desire to protect her. And claim her as his.

Marguerite had been surprised by Miss Merrill, but no more
surprised than he. He had taken dozens of women far comelier and more practiced
than Miss Merrill. How was it then that he felt driven to madness by her? A
cautionary bell rang in his head, one that questioned the wisdom of pursuing
anything further.

Her arse had an alluring glow of rose about it. Ignoring the
bell, he palmed her buttock and wondered if she was still a virgin here.
Marguerite was correct—he didn’t do virgins. But hers was such a delectable
arse, he found himself considering the prospect, intrigued at being the first
to plumb her nether hole. His cock swelled its support for the idea.

Her coiffure had mostly come undone, and tendrils of hair
curled about her face and down her neck. Tiny beads of perspiration dotted her
nose. He liked her look of disarray. Liked that he was the one who had placed
her in such a state. The flush in her rounded cheeks added to her loveliness.
His hand wound its way to her mons, brushing her curls and feeling for the
dampness between her thighs. A soft moan escaped her lips when he brushed past
her clitoris.

He nibbled her ear. “Tell me now, Heloise, how you enjoyed
your submission.”

“I suppose rather well,” she murmured.

Impudent chit
, Sebastian thought to himself. He
plunged his fingers into her wet folds and jarred them against a raised area of
nerves.

“Ahhh,” she gasped.

“Only ‘rather well’?”

“Extremely well—much—I much enjoyed it.”

That is better.
He pressed his groin against her
buttocks as his fingers continued their assault. She arched herself into his
hands.

“Do you desire more, Miss Merrill?”

She paused but a second before nodding her head affirmatively.

“Say it.”

“I wish for more.”

“More what?”

“More of what you would do to me, my lord.”

“Do you wish me to frig you with my fingers?”

“Mmmm.”

“Fuck you with my cock?”

Her eyes flew open. Lust smoldered in her countenance.

“Yes, fuck me,” she declared in no uncertain terms.

This time it was he who groaned. With one hand still trapped
between her thighs, he tore the buttons of his pants loose with the other. His
erection sprang out, famished for contact. Too impatient to pull his breeches
down, he glided his cock between her legs from behind, then slid an arm beneath
her.

He reminded her, “If you wish to put a stop to this, you
must utter the word Ma—”

“Yes, yes,” she interrupted. “Be a gentleman and pray do not
keep a lady waiting.”

He ought to punish her for her audacity, but he hungered too
much for her at the moment. Without ceremony, he plunged himself into her. It
was the best alternative to a sound punishment. She cried out in shock as most,
but not all, of his length filled her. Sebastian closed his eyes and took in a
deep breath, longing to push himself deeper but wanting her to adjust to the
sudden invasion. He knew not how long it had been since last she had been
filled. His fingers played her clitoris while the other hand grabbed a breast.

She flexed against his cock. He sank himself deeper into her
wet and glorious heat. Suddenly, it wasn’t enough for him to be pulsing deep
inside her cunny. An insatiable desire to have his body completely merged with
hers took hold. He grabbed her chin and turned her mouth toward his, then
clamped his lips to hers. At last. How supple, how yielding her lips felt. And
he plumbed the depths of her mouth as vigorously as he would plumb the depths
of her quim.

She attempted to return his kiss, but he was too busy
tasting her, feeling her with his tongue, taking in her air, breathing in her
essence. His mouth worked her over, and he felt a rush of her hot liquid
encasing his cock. When he finally pulled his mouth from hers, her breath was
heavy and she looked dazed. Perhaps he had been a little too fierce in his
kiss. He knew not the source of this unexpected ferocity, but he had to sample
her mouth once more.

Muffling whatever she was about to say, he pressed his mouth
hard to hers. He kissed and sucked her until her lips swelled with lust and the
lines of her mouth flushed from the attention. It was maddening, this dueling
desire between his mouth and his cock. But the grinding of her hips against him
recalled the arousal between his legs. Slowly, he pulled his cock out. She
moaned as his shaft grazed her engorged clitoris. He plunged back into her and
closed his eyes to concentrate. His sac boiled, greedy for release. A tremor
threatened the control of his legs.

She let out a delicious cry as he plunged himself back in.
He returned a hand between her legs and began a rhythmic thrusting.

“Oh,
God
,” she pleaded, circling her arms behind her
and wrapping them about his neck.

A mirror strategically placed opposite them showed two
bodies, one darker than the other, writhing in unison, their purpose common.
The light of the candles flickered a warm inviting glow upon her milky skin.
Her tousled hair was damp about her face from perspiration. He saw his hand
fondling her breast. Despite the hardness of her nipples, her areolas remained
large, dark discs. He captured the vision of her, of them, in his mind. The
image fueled the rage in his cock, and he began to pound her as his fingers
plied her with increasing energy and speed.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she cried before a scream split
their grunting sounds and her body spasmed violently against him.

He continued to piston in and out of her until he had wrung
the last of her orgasm out of her. And then he succumbed to the needs of his
own body. The scalding desire roiling in his abdomen exploded out his cock,
blending into her wetness. With a roar he pumped himself into her. Her body was
his. Meant to serve his desires now.

Tremors shot down his legs as his climax peaked. He did not
realize how hard he was squeezing her breast until she cried out. He let go and
wrapped her in his arms as his lust finished draining into her. The blood
pounded relentlessly in his head, but he managed to kiss her gently on the
temple. She nestled closer to him. This too was glorious.

And as he cradled her in his arms, he found himself wishing
that what she had said was true. He wished he was indeed devoid of morals.

Chapter Four

Heloise awoke to find Lord Cadwell gone. At first his
disappearance did not trouble her. The pleasure of her experience still
lingered and as she stretched her arms overhead, she recalled as much as she
could, not wanting her memory to forget the smallest detail. Strange as it
seemed, it was not merely the havoc he had wreaked upon her body—she had never
thought her body could react as intensely as it had—that she cherished the
most. The overwhelming sense of freedom, of trust, was what had elevated her
experience to the heavens.

She also recalled with fondness their dialogue. That was how
he had seduced her. Despite her belief that his philosophy was self-serving—it
had to be, for how could someone genuinely believe such radical liberalism?—she
had found their conversation stimulating. And he seemed perfectly at ease
having such a discussion with her when others would have scoffed at her as some
bluestocking. Thus, she did not mind that he might have proved her a hypocrite.
She would be more than content to have him prove the point over and over again.

The yearning between her legs began to simmer at the
thought. Looking about the room, she wondered what else he might have in store
for her. Would he try the nine-of-tails next? Stirring in the bed, she relished
the tenderness of her bottom and the ache between her legs, wondering how much
more she could take. The thought frightened and intrigued her.

Annabelle appeared at the door with a tray. “His Lordship
asked me to bring some victuals.”

Eying the thinly sliced ham and colorful sweetmeats, Heloise
realized she was famished. Annabelle set the tray upon the bed and poured a glass
of wine.

“Your gown is being ironed, madam,” Annabelle said, “and I
shall return shortly to attend to your toilette.”

“Thank you.”

After a quick bob, the maid left. As Heloise buttered her
bread, she wondered why she should bother getting dressed if she would end up
naked again. Oh, but the process of undressing was delightful. She wondered if
she would have the opportunity to see him completely naked. The thought made
her salivate more than the food.

“The berries are fresh from the garden.”

She glanced quickly to the door. The Earl of Blythe stood on
the threshold, dressed magnificently in gray. She had never found gray to be an
appealing color, but he wore it well. The hue would have made a pale man look
ashen but did nothing to tarnish the bronze in Lord Cadwell’s complexion. He
wore his riding hat and riding boots and a light cloak was draped about his
shoulders.

“Are you headed out?” she asked. She glanced out the windows
to see that the sun had just begun to emerge from the horizon.

“If you leave within the hour, you will be home not long
after dawn,” he informed her.

Her brows lifted in reaction—she had not even been here a
day—but the tone of his voice suggested he had no interest in prolonging her
stay. What had happened? Had she done something to offend? She had thought he
approved of her performance. Was that not so?

“You’re letting me go?” she asked.

“It was never my intention to keep you prisoner. I may be
devoid of morals, but I am no tyrant.”

Never his intention or not his desire? Would he have felt
differently if she were Josephine?

“What of Josephine?” she inquired when he touched his hat to
her and prepared to take his leave.

“You may rest easy, Miss Merrill. I will not be extending
another invitation to your cousin.”

Because he might end up with her instead? She watched him
depart in stunned silence. Was this how he was with the other women? Did he
bring them ecstasy, show them a bit of affection, then cast them aside as
quickly as possible?

Of course. What a fool she had been to think that he might
have taken a fancy to her. Apparently she did not merit even a full weekend
with him. He had proved his point and shown her for a charlatan. Did she expect
anything else from entangling herself with a rake like Sebastian Cadwell?

The bread, though freshly baked, suddenly tasted stale to
her. With a sigh, she pushed away the tray and rose from the bed to prepare for
a long and lonely journey home.

* * * * *

“Surely you are not leaving so soon,
mon cheri
?” Lady
Follet asked from the settee where she lounged in a stola.

Sebastian bowed. “I have no reason to stay, and came only to
bid you
adieu
.”

“
Adieu
? But why?” Marguerite persisted as she plucked
a grape off its stem.

He eyed the two brawny men, dressed in togas, who had been
servicing her. “I have no wish to trouble you with more than a goodbye, seeing
as you are occupied, my lady.”

She waved her pair of Roman servants away. “I am now
un
occupied.”

“Nevertheless, I intend a brief farewell.”

Marguerite pursed her lips in a pout. He could not help but
compare her wide and thin lips with those of Miss Merrill’s. Parting from Miss
Merrill had proved more difficult than he had anticipated—especially as she sat
naked in that bed, ready to be taken again. He had considered fucking her one
last time, but that would only have delayed the inevitable awkwardness. And he
had had a hard enough time looking into her eyes after what had transpired
between them.

“Ah, you offended your lady friend in some manner and she is
leaving in a huff,” Marguerite noted. “You will, of course, give chase, prove
that she cannot resist you, and fuck her madly in your carriage.”

He swallowed hard, trying not to imagine the scene being
played out with Heloise—Miss Merrill.

“I am sending her away,” he explained.

“But why?”

“Because she came in error. She is not suited for Château
Follet.”

“Her cries would indicate otherwise. She was enjoying
herself—my servants told me they could hear her from down the hall. And,
regardless of what Anne Wesley would say, no woman has been known to be dissatisfied
in your hands.”

Sebastian let out an impatient breath through his nose. He
had little desire to discuss the matter with Marguerite, but she was the
hostess, and his manners would not allow him to dismiss her easily.