Trust Me (7 page)

The odour of the
Thames.

Dirty, filthy air. No
one could breathe clearly there.

No one could make a
move or utter a word without being judged.

Her heart faltered
then sped into a panicked cadence. No! Her fingers clawed into the seat’s edge.
She didn’t want to go there. They had to turn around. Now.

“Anne.” Jon’s hard,
commanding tone cut into her rising panic. She turned her gaze back to his. “I
do not like being ignored or lied to. I have been tolerant the past few days
because I know you’ve been under many strains of late. But my patience has come
to an end. Now stop being evasive with me. You’ve avoided my inquires all
through this journey. It is a form of defiance I will not tolerate.” Jon’s deep
voice shattered the haze of her rising panic.

Calm yourself. Think rationally.

She forced herself to
release her fingers from the edge of the seat. Then she let go the breath she’d
been holding.

She offered him what
she hoped was a bright, happy smile.

“Anne.” He sounded
sceptical.

Oh, how to explain to
him what she didn’t entirely understand herself? And the shame of it all made
her not want to even try.

“I am not being
defiant. I-I...” She struggled for the right words. “This is just how I am. I
spent so much time alone, with no one I could confide in. I am not used to
being so open with anyone.” She softened her voice to a plea. “Even you.”

“It
is
defiance and it begins to pall.”

“You won’t
understand.”

“I want to
understand, Anne. I want to help you. But I cannot read your mind. You must
confide in me.”

And that was it,
wasn’t it? At times, she almost believed he could read her mind. He did seem to
know more about the nature of emotions and feelings than she did. He even
seemed to understand her feelings better than she could. His sympathy called to
her, threatened to pull into an emotional undertow that she didn't understand.
She could become lost there, merge into him and all sense of her own self would
vanish, not just during their carnal relations but all the time. She’d no longer
have her own thoughts, the sanctuary of her own self.

“Anne, don’t scowl
like that.” His voice resonated tenderness.

She glanced up at
him. “May I please be allowed the privacy of my own thoughts?” She couldn’t
keep the sharpness from her voice.

“You don’t seem to
understand the rules of our interaction.”

“Don’t I?” She could
scarcely pay attention to his words. She just wanted to withdraw into herself
and sort her feelings out.

“We shall always
discuss whatever I feel we should. And you will always give prompt, honest and
complete answers.”

“What you ask is not
always—”

“I am not asking,
Nan. I demand your submission.”

“I submit to you,
fully, freely.”

“Not completely.”

She struggled to
collect her thoughts. “I did not expect so much scrutiny of the inner workings
of myself. You are changing the rules in our marriage moment by moment.”

“Marriage made you my
countess and allocated to you the duty to give me heirs. But this between us is
something different and you know it.”

“I don’t know what
you want from me.”

“We should talk
openly about your uneasiness with returning to Mayfair.”

“Talk, talk, talk.
You are always wanting to talk about everything—and by talk, you usually mean
that I should pour forth every single thought and feeling I have for you to
analyse.”

“Anne.” Her name,
softly spoken, carried a warning laced in steel. “Careful of your tone.”

She was angering him
now. She didn’t care. “It’s not fair to—”

“I am trying to care
for you and you are fighting me.”

“I am not fighting
you. I am trying to explain myself.”

“I demand your total
submission, not just in my bed.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I must know what
is going on in that knotty mind of yours.”

His piercing gaze
seemed as though it could peel back her defences. She loved him. Adored him.
But she wanted—no, she
needed
to
protect some inner part of herself from him. At least until she understood
herself better.

But he wanted
everything. Not just her body, not just her submission to his carnal will but
every part of her, even her innermost thoughts.

He leant over and
reached across the space between their seats and touched her arm. “Relax,
Anne.”

“If you’ll give me
some space, I will be able to.”

He caressed her arm.
“London can be most enjoyable. If you’ll trust me, I shall show you.”

His gaze was so
compassionate. The pull towards him was almost a physical sensation she could
feel in her chest. In another moment, she’d be spilling all her worries and
fears. But no, no, she couldn’t talk about any of this until she understood
herself better. He was seducing her with his tender touches, his voice. He had
too much power over her. She needed time, time alone. But they were stuck here,
together in the carriage, headed ever closer to London. Her heart leapt into a
frantic pace.

She felt cornered,
trapped. Her throat went tight. She just needed time to think. But he wouldn’t
stop caressing her.

She unfurled her
arms, shaking off his touch then pushed against him. “Oh! Will you please leave
me alone?”

His expression went
stony and his eyes turned cold as agates.

Her heart froze and
her mouth went dry. Her swirling thoughts went still and she was pulled
ruthlessly into the moment. She had displeased him. For the first time since
London had come into sight, she gave her husband her full attention.

“This entire journey,
you have become increasingly evasive with me, increasingly shrewish.”

She swallowed back
the dryness in her throat.

“I have tried to be
understanding of your uneasiness but there are limits to everything. I will not
be disrespected by you.” He moved back to his own seat then motioned for her.
“Come.”

At his terse tone, a
heated chill raced through her. Everything inside her went limp. Weak. Her
heart was racing with apprehension and yet strong surges of carnal heat
streamed into her pelvis.

She didn’t want the
pain of a spanking and yet she wanted to be where he motioned. Helplessly
spread across his lap. Illogical? Yes, certainly, it was a most illogical
desire. But then again, it didn’t come from a very logical part of her being.

“Nan?”

She stared at his
lap, fidgeting with her skirt. She couldn’t speak. Her body trembled with the
currents of fear and sexual excitement pulsing in her blood. Wetness flowed
between her legs, dampening her linen shift.

“Must I drag you
here?”

Chapter Five

Anne swallowed and
tried to clear her throat. “No.”

The next moment found
her crawling onto his lap. The motion of the travelling carriage made the
exchange awkward. Devoid of any dignity.

Jon shifted her
weight, moving her body over his powerful thighs. “Put your hands flat on the
seat.”

She could at least be brave and strong
about this. Suppressing the urge to give a moan of fear— or was it unbearable
anticipation?—she flattened her gloved hands upon the seat.

He shoved her skirts up; the rustling of her
two stiffly starched petticoats resonated like scraping in her ears.

Had she imagined a slight catch in his
breath?

He touched her buttocks, a light caress.
She jumped then resettled herself. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears. He
continued to caress her.

“Why I am punishing you?”

Now trembling uncontrollably with
anticipation, she struggled to regain control over her jaw. “Because I am not
forthcoming about my thoughts.”

“No, that’s not why. It is because of your shrewish
tone. I will not be disrespected.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Just so you understand the reason.”

He made that slight intake of breath and
she caught hers. It was coming. He always struck hard for a punishment. She
couldn’t help tensing and her breathing quickened until she became a little
light-headed. The urge to tell him to just get on with it arose and she bit her
lip to force it back.

His hand came down upon her buttock. She
started and cried out. Not because it hurt but because it didn’t. It was a far
lighter blow than she’d expected. Playful and very much as the spankings he
gave her during their lovemaking.

“Hush,” he said sternly.

Ten spanks later, she was writhing on his
lap. Carnal fire streamed into her loins. What the devil was his game? She lost
count of the strikes and soon found herself rubbing her mons against his lap.
Her own pleas sounded in her ear.

She could feel his coldness. The rigid,
controlled way he held his body despite his rearing erection that pressed
against her.

Yet she couldn’t stop writhing with need.

Shame flooded her.

He grasped a handful of her hair and gave
it a firm tug. “Be still.”

With supreme effort, she forced herself to
lie still.

“Now, Nan, tell me what is preying on your
mind.”

What? He had worked her into a state like
this and she was supposed to be able to concentrate and spill the contents of
her secret heart?

“I don’t want to talk about it. It will not
help.”

With one swift motion, he pulled her skirts
back in place. “Go back to your seat.”

His tone was terse, impersonal.

Wait… he was
dismissing
her now? Shock washed over her and she swallowed back a
sob of pained desire. “Please, no, don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t send me away.” Fear rose inside her
with alarming, tingling intensity. Mindless, unknown terror. It made no sense.

“Go.”

She clung to his leg. “No, please, please
don’t.”

“I am only sending you to your own seat.”

“Well, don’t…”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Need burned her throat anew.

Please don’t make me ask for it. Don’t
make me beg, not for this.

She turned her head and looked up at him
with pleading in her eyes. But she saw only coldness in his own.

“Nan, you must answer my question.” He
crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her sternly.

She took a panting breath, feeling a little
dizzy, disorientated. He placed his hand lightly over her throbbing buttocks
and pushed her pelvis down. His erection pressed up insistently against her.
Her position was a reminder of how she had been earlier. Caught between his
hand and his lap whilst he had teased her into her current state of arousal.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“If you won’t answer, then you must go.
You’ve completely exhausted my tolerance today.” He lifted his hand.

Slowly and with reluctance, she moved from
his lap back to her seat. She shifted uncomfortably. Her every nerve ending was
overstimulated. If only he’d take her now and make her feel
those
kinds of feelings. Carnal feelings
were so much safer than other emotions and yet they gave vent and release. She
needed that release.

She ran a caressing hand over her neck; the
simple gesture sent sensual energy crackling over her skin. Tightening her
nipples. Her whole body ached for his touch. His fierceness. His weight
pressing her down. She hazarded a glance at him.

He was staring at her, intently. His
expression gave nothing away. Their eyes caught. She couldn’t help giving him
another silent plea, forcing all her desire into her gaze. Seeking to burn him
as she burned.

His features went like granite.

His coldness, his forbidding manner, sliced
like a knife into her heart.

His image grew a bit blurry. Wetness
spilled on her cheeks. She had no defences, no rationality, no restraint at
times like this. Quickly, she glanced down. A wave of need surged through her,
so painful it made her shudder. She bit her lip a little harder.

His exhalation was loud, curt, cutting. He
knocked on the forward wall of the carriage.

****

“I require a private dining chamber.” Jon
was barely aware of the innkeeper; he’d be hard-pressed to give a description
of the man if called upon to do so. He couldn’t describe the interior of this
second-rate coaching inn.

Every particle of his being was focused
upon his wife and attuned to the urgency of his need.

Her need.

He had never been so overwrought about a
woman. Never been so out of control of his desires.

Her tears. Christ, her tears. They were the
most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. More beautiful because she would never
show them to others. He knew he was the only one who could make her come undone
like that.

She murmured and fidgeted.

He became aware of how tightly he was
holding her arm. He eased his grip a degree or so and forced his attention on
his surroundings, making a mental note of every detail around him. Control, he
thought, and took a deep breath and then released it. God, he must regain
control over himself.

She was his wife now, for life. He had all
the time in the world to gain the kind of submission he wanted from her. Yet
her evasiveness, her refusal to be open with him, was such a covert and
maddening sort of defiance. He had intended to withhold carnal release from
her.

Now his blood seethed with the urgency to
rein her in, to subdue her, to break through that resistance forever.

“Milord?”

At the sound of the timid voice, he looked
up. A serving-maid stood there, appearing to be hanging back a little. “Sir, I
am to take you to your private chamber.”

“Bring us some wine, cheese and bread,” he
said, once they had reached the chamber.

“That’s all, milord?” The serving-girl
looked uncertain.

“Yes.”

She gave a quick, awkward curtsey and left.

Jon closed the door. The chamber held a
table and chairs and a sideboard, and, against the far wall, a most
uncomfortable-looking settee with faded red cushions. He gave Anne a gentle
push towards the settee. “Go wait there.” He watched the gentle sway of her
broad, round arse as she walked to the settee. His cock throbbed against the
confines of his trousers.

He adjusted his fall. Soon, very soon.

 
She
sat and kept her eyes downcast. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

“Remove your kerchief,” he said.

Her hands shook as she obeyed. Her breasts,
where they swelled softly above her bodice, were covered in a lacy flush as
though she were close to a climax.

She was the most carnally responsive woman
he’d ever known.

Desire pulsed through his cock; his pulse
seemed to centre there.

Every part of him demanded that he go to her now and possess her.
Subdue her completely. Show her that she was not to withhold any part of
herself. Her proper place was beneath him. Vulnerable and submissive to him in
every way. His erection throbbed, the urgency pressed upon him until he fisted
his hands at his sides to keep himself from going to her.

God, he hungered for her.

Too much.

A knock at the door brought him out of his
passionate haze, enough that he went and answered it. He took the tray from the
serving-girl. “Don’t return until you’re asked.”

****

Anne watched as Jon approached, his gaze
fiery and fixed upon her.

He placed his hand at the base of her
throat. “Nan.”

A tingling chased through her. An
exhilarating rush. She caught her breath.

“Kneel for me.” All the carnal energy
surging in her from the spanking pulsed to life in her lower pelvis. Her whole
body trembled with anticipation and her knees became almost too weak for her to
comply. She braced her hands on the settee cushion.

He took her wrists. “Not on your hands, lay
with your shoulders flat.” He pulled her arms back. She felt the velvet
softness surround her wrists, heard the click of the clasp. Did he carry those
cuffs everywhere?

It wasn’t the most comfortable position and
she waited, her heart thudding with arousal and anticipation, wondering what he
was doing. He leant over her again. “Close your eyes.”

No, no, no. She didn’t want to be blindfolded.
She hated that. But he was slipping a folded silk handkerchief over her eyes.
He touched her slick folds. Her hips jerked. He laid a quick, firm smack to her
buttock. “Be still.”

He grasped her hips. The crown of his cock
touched her entrance, heated, hard as steel. He thrust into her, impaling her
in one vigorous move.

She cried out and could not prevent the
arching of her hips.

Jon spanked her again, more sharply.

“I said to be still.” He ground the words
out then put his thighs on either side of her body and pressed, forcing her to
close her legs, squeezing his erection inside her, making his throbbing length
seem even bigger and harder than usual. Her inner walls clenched him over and
over. His crown swelled, pulsing against the door to her womb. The pressure was
so exquisite. So
divine
. Wetness
flooded her and she moaned.

“Shh, wench, be quiet.”

He laced his fingers into the coiled braid
at the back of her neck and gripped it, holding her head. All her muscles went weak,
like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a predator. Holding her nearly immobile, he
withdrew partially and then drove back into her. Again and again, he thrust and
withdrew, harder, faster.

Biting her lip to keep from screaming her
joy, she lay helpless, unable to do anything but feel. Feel the rough shocks of
his cock hitting the mouth of her womb, feeling the shock pulse through her
belly. Jolts of fiery sensation. The energy swelled inside her. It was too
much, too much…it leaked out in her tears and gushes of luscious lubrication
from her sex.

He was fucking her ferociously now.

The most ferocious fuck he’d ever given
her.

Her heart pounded in her ears. Her inner
walls drew tight and then released spasmodically, sending violent waves of
pleasure roiling deep inside her.

He tightened his grip in her hair and upon
her hip. His body strained against hers and shook. The surge of his seed washed
her insides in pulses of heat.

Exhilaration filled her.

He released her then moved away and sat
beside her on the divan. Moments passed. The settee creaked as he moved close
to her and removed the blindfold and then uncuffed her wrists. Her arms felt
weak, stiff. Her neck ached a bit.

He wiped between her legs and the
vulnerability of the moment made her feel limp. He pulled her skirts down and
lifted her weak body, shifting her to a seated position. Her legs were stiff
and tingled somewhat painfully as she moved them. At that moment, she became
aware of the soreness between her legs.

Despite his gentle care, his silence made
her uneasy. “So you are quite angry with me still.”

He stared at her and quirked his mouth.

“Very, very angry,” she added in a
sorrowful tone.

“I wouldn’t say I was angry, Anne.”

She could discern nothing from his tone.
“But if you’re not angry…”

“I am frustrated. I need your complete
trust.”