Sweet Release (42 page)

The creaking of footfalls on the stairs told her he had come. She smoothed her skirts nervously, her heart pounding. Could she really do this? She felt herself start to smile, but forced it away. A quiet knock came at the door. The handle turned. Alec stepped in and turned to close the door. He looked so handsome, dressed in a clean linen shirt and breeches. She had to fight the urge to rush forward and fall into his arms.

“Cassie, love, I . . . ” He turned toward her, staring. “You look beauti—”

“You’re on time, convict.” It took every ounce of determination she had not to smile or giggle. “That’s good. It will go easier on you.”

Cassie could see in his eyes the moment he understood her game. His look of confusion was replaced by surprise and then amusement before his gaze grew cold and hard. “I’m to be punished, then?”

“I can no longer tolerate your insolence, convict. I mean to teach you a lesson.” It was good she had rehearsed her lines. It would have been impossible to say them else. Was she really going through with this?

He leaned against her bedpost nonchalantly, crossing his arms. Defiant and confident, he reminded her so much of the man he’d been when she’d first purchased his indenture. “And what makes you think I’ll cooperate, mistress, when I could just as easily break your pretty neck?”

“You’ll find what I have in mind far more pleasant than what you’ll receive if you disobey.”

“I see.” His gaze raked over her body in blatant sexual appraisal, and she shivered in anticipation. “And just what do you have in mind?”

Chapter Twenty-seven

“Undress—slowly.”

He raised an eyebrow, then untied his shirt and slowly pulled it over his head. It fell, forgotten, at his feet. Candlelight cast the bronzed muscles of his arms, chest, and abdomen in glorious high relief. He reached for the opening of his breeches, his muscles shifting, and began to untie them.

Cassie felt desire flow like warm brandy through her veins.

“Slowly, convict.”

His gaze locked with hers again as ever so slowly he pulled on the ties, undid his breeches, and let them drop to the floor. He was rock hard, his sex thick and heavy.

She found she could scarcely breathe. “Your hair. Remove the thong.”

Not breaking eye contact, he reached back with one hand, and his dark hair slid free, falling just below his shoulders. He looked untamed, primally male, and, with his lash scars, not a little dangerous. He stepped toward her.

She stepped back. “Stop! The shackles.” She pointed to the bed. “Lock one end around your right wrist, then pass the chain behind the bedpost, lie down, and lock the other end around your left wrist.”

He looked at the bed and saw the shackles. She heard his quick intake of breath and saw a shadow pass over his face. Then it was gone.

“Don’t you trust me, fair mistress?” His voice was dark as sin and soft as velvet. His eyes held the allure of every man who’d ever tried to beguile a woman into a false sense of sexual safety.

“Never.” She smiled and spoke in a rich, seductive voice she didn’t know she had. “But I will have your complete cooperation.”

“I see.”

Naked, he walked to the bed, picked up the shackles, and closed one end around his right wrist. It locked with a click. He sat and moved backward across the bed, then reached behind his head and passed the chain behind one of the bedposts.

“What makes you think these chains will protect you?”

“Do it, convict.”

He lay down, then reached back to cuff his left wrist.
Click.
He lay diagonally across the bed, completely vulnerable. His arms were stretched over his head. His chest rose and fell with each breath. His rigid sex stood defiantly against his abdomen. His legs, spread slightly, stretched the length of the bed, his feet hanging just over the edge. A tremor passed from Cassie’s belly to her sex. His gaze, cold and menacing, bored through her.

“Do you like what you see?”

“Aye, convict. And it’s good for you that I do.” Almost trembling with excitement, she loosened her bodice until her breasts were visible. Then she moved to the bed and began to caress him, first his feet, then his ankles and calves. Where her hands touched, her lips and tongue soon followed. She heard his breath quicken, felt his muscles tense, and reveled in his response. She worked her way up his muscular legs and over his powerful thighs, but, although she touched the sac that carried his seed, she did not touch his shaft. “You’ve a remarkable cock, convict.”

He groaned in frustration. The chains caught on the bedpost, clinking as he strained against them. “Is this to be my punishment then? To be tortured with kisses, soft hands and words?”

Some part of her she’d never known awoke within her, and she felt herself grow more daring. Like a cat toying with its prey, she stretched across the bed beside him. She ran her fingers teasingly on his abdomen, outlining his erection.

“Your punishment is that you shall see, but you shall not touch. You shall want, but you shall not receive—not until it pleases me.”

He groaned again, and she kissed his chest. Her tongue found his flat, brown nipples, and she licked and teased them. Her fingers savored the soft skin and hair of his chest, felt the firm planes and ridges of his muscles. Everything about him was intoxicating—the feel of him, his manly smell, the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch. To have him in her power like this was the most intoxicating thing of all, a heady elixir that heightened her senses and her hunger.

She kissed a path along the valley that ran down the center of his belly, then took his shaft in her hand. She’d learned a few things about pleasuring him since the first time she’d tasted him, and she was going to put them all to good use. Holding him firmly with one hand, she began to tease the head with her tongue, tracing swirling shapes over, around, and under. Then she took him into her mouth and began to move her mouth and hand together up and down his length, laving him with her tongue all the while.

“Sweet Jesus!” His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed. His hands gripped the chains that held him fast. His hips matched her rhythm, and Cassie could tell his climax was near.

She stopped, fondled his sac, and let his passion cool.

“Christ!” His voice was ragged with arousal.

Cassie found herself battling to control her own flaming desire. She’d never been in control before, and the thrill of it was like a powerful wine coursing through her blood. She wanted him inside her, but she could not, would not let herself have him—not yet. She ravished him with her mouth and tongue again and again, taking him to the brink, then stopping. His entire body was taut with unspent passion, and the sounds that came from his throat told her he was as desperate as she. Unable to bear it longer, she lifted her gown and straddled him. She saw his pupils dilate when he felt his skin touch her bare thighs and bottom.

His gaze devoured her. “I want to touch your breasts.”

Cassie opened her bodice more, lifted her breasts so that he could see them, and circled her nipples with her thumbs.

“No.” He jerked on his bonds, the muscles of his arms and chest straining, but the chains held fast. “You are cruel.” His eyes held hot fury and lust.

“But not heartless. I want your cock inside me now. That ought to please you.” Cassie rested her hands on his chest to balance her weight, then lifted her hips and carefully guided him inside her.

They moaned almost in unison as their bodies joined. She rode him, grinding against him to pleasure herself. Though she knew it would not be enough to bring him to climax, it was everything she needed. With him thick and hard deep inside her, she quickly felt her peak near and let it wash gloriously over her as her sheath contracted around him.

Her cries of pleasure mixed with his tortured groans, and she knew his anguish was real. She would have to end this game, or at least give him his reward for playing along so nobly.

“Have you learned your lesson, convict?” She reached between her breasts for the key and dangled it before him.

Then a hand clamped over her mouth, and, in a whirl of motion, she found herself facedown on the bed, one arm bent behind her back.

“I tried to warn you, mistress.” His voice was harsh. “You should never ask a felon to lock himself up. He might not be trustworthy. Scream, and it will be the last sound you make. Do you understand?”

She nodded gravely, her heart pounding with intense excitement.

He removed his hand from her mouth, and she heard the clinking of chains as he dragged them toward her.

“Don’t hurt me!” Her voice quavered with anticipation, and her plea sounded genuine.

“No? If your body provides me with enough pleasure, perhaps I shall spare you. You are a pretty thing. It would be a shame if I had to mar your lovely skin.” He took her other arm and brought it behind her back.

She felt the cold touch of iron. Then she heard two distinct clicks—much louder clicks than she’d heard when he’d locked himself up—and knew she was shackled. Her pulse raced. She had not planned this!

“What have we here?”

She felt him lift her skirts and pile them up around her waist, baring her bottom.

“You’ve got a nice ass, mistress, round and pink.” His hands stroked her buttocks, raising goose bumps on her skin. Because she could not see him, she could only guess what he might do next. She felt wonderfully helpless. It was more titillating than she could have imagined.

“I can smell you from here—hot, musky, ready for me.”

She felt him move between her thighs, cried out when he forced them wide apart. His fingers found her, penetrated her. She heard herself moan, felt her ardor rise again.

“You’re so wet. You must have enjoyed yourself.” He stroked her deeply. “Now it’s my turn.”

Cassie began to struggle. She twisted and tried to inch away from him across the bed.

He laughed and held her legs still beneath his. “You can’t fight me, love, though you can amuse me by trying.” He pulled her bodice down over her shoulders, then reached beneath her to fondle her breasts. “I’m really going to enjoy this.”

His fingers were rough, but he didn’t actually hurt her. Instead he drove her mad. Her nipples grew hard as he rolled them between his fingers. “Oh, please!”

“Not such a lady, after all, mistress? Want me to take you?”

“Oh, aye!”

She cried out as he plunged into her. Deep and hard he drove into her again and again, his hands grasping her hips. It felt so good. Then he angled himself to strike the most sensitive part inside her, and Cassie felt the world around her shatter. Her cries mixed with his deep groans as he spilled his seed against her womb.

Later, when her dress had been hung carefully in her wardrobe and the shackles had been hidden away, Cassie crawled into his arms and snuggled against the warmth of his chest.

“Were you surprised?” She released the giggle she’d held back all night.

“Aye. I must say I was.” He smiled, his face unbearably handsome. He traced the curve of her cheek with his hand. “I didn’t realize you were capable of such... fantasy. But now that I know ...” He smiled a slow, wicked smile.

“You were never really chained, were you?”

He chuckled. “No. But I let you think I was.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to see what you would do. I wasn’t disappointed.” Then she remembered. “You were afraid to put the shackles on, weren’t you?”

“I have these memories. . . . Just images really, feelings.” He stopped, his face clouded.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

He held a finger to her lips to still her, his gaze capturing hers. “They’re only memories, love. They could in no way compete with the delight you were offering.”

“Then you didn’t mind?”

“You can shackle me anytime, mistress.”

A dog yelped.

Wood cracked, crashed to the floor.

Cassie heard herself scream. She sat bolt upright, heart pounding sickeningly against her breast.

It was a nightmare.

“Take the boy and the pup to my carriage. And have a care.”

It was no nightmare. This was real.

“Alec!”

Men—six, maybe seven—streamed through the gap where her bedroom door had been. It lay on the floor, splintered. Alec was already out of bed, on his feet, still naked. He’d knocked one man to the ground. The second fell as Alec broke Cassie’s dressing table chair across his back. But there were too many of them. Within seconds four men had fallen upon Alec with fists and cudgels, raining blow after blow, driving him to the floor. Henry, the old Scot, was among them, a smug look on his face, his gaze traveling over Cassie’s naked body.

“Alec!”

Heedless of her own nakedness, Cassie sprang from the bed to help him, only to feel arms grab her from behind. Twisting and kicking, she fought her attacker, but to no avail.

“You go with me.”

Cassie knew that voice. She froze.

“That’s better.” One of his hands covered her mouth, while the other moved slowly over the skin of her bare belly, making her stomach lurch. “If I hadn’t seen this myself, I’d never have believed it. How could you?”