What She Craves (11 page)

R
upert cringed as he entered the game room from the hall. Damn woman. He never lost control; he always asked before he touched, before he took.

He owned few principles, and he had plowed straight through them at the sight of her. He shouldn't have touched, let alone frigged her, knowing she disliked him so.

The desire to rut with her pressed against the wall overtook him, and he barely managed to stop himself from shoving his cock into her scalding cunt. That would have been disastrous, even if she begged for such.

Devil help him, he did have some pride, and joining with a woman who found him repulsive went against all of it.

Her skin, so soft. And the smell of her arousal…He closed his eyes. Blister it, why was she not attracted to him? How could a woman of intense sensuality only desire the dandies who protected her?

He wanted to fuck her. Even more he wanted to watch her. Watch her being brought to discharge by, well, by someone. He groaned as his cock stood stiff from his body.

Damn it all to hell. Why did she have to come here tonight? He didn't like feeling as if he had commited a lewd act, an act against someone's desires. But…

They both found release, and he now had the memory of her sweet slender thighs squeezing him to an uncontrolled spend.

To sink into her would have meant the end of any control where she was concerned. He could feel it…uncontrolled desire, the want to posses her, to make her beg him to fuck her hard, while knowing fully who and what he was.

To watch her pleasure and be pleasured by another, only to be the one to bring her the ultimate release. He closed his eyes and dragged a hand through his hair. She was here for a man like him. Did she mean it?

He had tried a dozen times over the years to get Cora to consider him. Each time she turned him down without a second glance. If only…No, he wouldn't think of that.

Striding to the wall just inside the room, he turned and waited for her to emerge. The faro and whist tables held no sway for him this night; his entire body was focused on the woman who would walk through that door.

Her beautiful naked body appeared, turning the heads of most men in the room. If she came to him or considered him with her stare, he would pursue her. But he would not, could not, approach if she once again lifted that pretty head of fiery hair and stared down her nose at him.

Cora. The epitome of woman: long legs and sensuous curves. Yet in her naked form, the light showed a large scar across the smooth swell of her belly. A frown creased his brow. Did she enjoy pain? She enjoyed giving punishment, but…

She regarded the room, looking for him most likely. Though, she wouldn't know him when she saw him. She turned toward him and inspected his length as he leaned against the wall.

Ah, those breasts, small swells of flesh with peach-tipped nipples covering a good third of them. His mouth went dry.

Her gaze locked with his. His did not waver. The corner of his lips turned up.
Yes, Cora. Watch me.

She stared down his naked chest, then lower to his black trousers and bare feet.
The same as your unidentified lover.

He shifted as his cock swelled his flap. Her pink tongue darted out and licked the corner of her lip as her gaze locked with his again.

Shit, she was a siren calling him home. Maybe she'd grown bored with her scrawny fops. Well, he sure as hell would find out.

Another naked woman, much older than Cora, padded up to her side. Cora turned away from him. Ahh. But not once had she stared down her nose at him in disgust. He would have her yet this night.

 

“Well, Cora.” Mary slid an arm though hers. “What do you think?”

Cora couldn't believe it. Few of the guests in the card room wore nothing. A few women, a handful of men. Some had shirts off, but most of the gentlemen dressed as if at any other club in London. She frowned.

“A bit disappointing, Mary.” Surely, the Hell Knights was more than the typical club.

A wicked smile curved Mary's lips. “You were just a living hors d'oeuvre, and this is only one room of many in this house.”

Violin strings strained in the small card room.

“Ah, the vices shall begin.” Mary winked.

The man Cora watched bowed his head to her with indifference and turned toward an open door. A delicious flicker of emotion and sensation lifted the hair on her neck. Her eyes widened. What was that?

Mary chuckled. “A fine catch you have made, my dear. Not here an hour and you have the master drooling to bed you.”

What?
She studied Mary. “He didn't seem affected by me.” Her gaze turned back to the door and the man's retreating muscular back. His arms were incredible. The sensations lingered, caressing her skin as a feather would.

“That is Rupert Roland. Cool control. I have never seen him act impulsively. But underneath all his restraint, I think he is special.”

Rupert Roland. Of course she knew of his name. Who didn't? But she never allowed herself to become familiar with his face or his physique. From his reputation alone, he was everything she had avoided over the past years.

Mary's hand rubbed her arm, stroking her as warmth spread to her stomach, to her heart. The arousing, soothing sensation brought tears to her eyes. She missed Mary.

“Rupert had one bound to him for many years, but she never understood him or wanted to take the time. You two may be just what the other needs.”

“He is as bad a scoundrel, if not worse, than Matthew. I could never connect myself to a man like him.”

“Oh, sweet girl. All of the men in this club possess some of the qualities of that bumpus Dranger. That is why you are here.”

Mary continued to lightly stroke her.

“I'm not sure why I'm here. I know I want to experience a powerful man again. Just not one who is as controlling as—”

“As Matthew. Well, I don't think Matthew's control frightened you, dear. If I remember correctly, you enjoyed that aspect.”

Mary was correct, of course. His rages, his possessiveness, ended their love. Never would she put herself in that position again. To be owned to her soul. She would find a man who desired her, but not to the point of not letting her talk to another. Touch another.

“You're right, Mary.”

“Well, then Mr. Roland just might do.”

“No, he is too controlled.”

“Ah, in search of a bit of passion, are you? Well, no doubt you will find plenty. The men here are known not only for their control and vices, but also for wonderful fucks.”

“Mary,” she said in mock outrage.

“Well, it is true, dear.”

Cora giggled, feeling like the fresh-as-grass girl she'd been when Dranger introduced her to Mary. Once again, she wanted to tell her everything. To have Mary mentor her, guide her back to this world.

“The man who let me down in the hall was just wonderful, Mary.”

“Oh, do tell. Which one of the masters untied you?”

“That's just it. I…I don't know.”

“Well, dear, your senses will tell you. Only the masters are allowed to untie.”

“Where is my dear girl Janice?” Mary glanced around the room, then guided Cora toward the door.

They walked through together, and Cora stopped still to gawk at the room. Now this was what she had in mind. This room dazzled from fantasy.

The walls, a rich shade of deep emerald green, depicted colorful men and woman in all sorts of vices in broad strokes. Strokes she could feel. There was flogging, buggering, a man in chains, and several pictures of multiple men and women engaged in different positions of the act. The images themselves were not shocking, yet wetness pooled between her legs at the scent of honey radiating throughout the room. Her mystery man.

White Corinthian columns stood proud around the edges, and the floor was open. This room no longer hosted the fancy dancing of a ballroom. Instead, the room was for strategy, control, and wicked desires.

An alternating pattern of black and white tiles formed a square in the center of the floor. A chessboard. Around the edges, naked men and women gathered as human pieces.

Rupert stood in the center and conversed with two other men. One of them bowed his head and left. Then he shook hands with a man with the same dark hair and chiseled chin. A striking resemblance; surely they were brothers.

“What an entertaining game this promises to be. Rupert will play his brother.”

“Being brothers, wouldn't they have played previously?”

“No doubt. They enjoy sharing. It is said Rupert was introduced to woman by his brother's mistress, but…”

“But what?”

“Rupert
never
plays. Not here anyway. I bet he is counting on you, my dear, to join his set of pieces. I think he wants to see how obedient you are.”

Hmmm…She bit her lip, taking in his muscular torso and arms as he gestured and quietly talked. Shivers raced across her body, remembering the arms of the man in the hall. Rupert's arms fit the description of what she remembered. He could be the man who pleasured her so thoroughly in the entry. The man who she wanted to complete what he started.

“Does he normally watch?” She held her breath.
Please let her say yes.

“Everyone watches, dear. Who couldn't?”

She bit her lip. Even if Rupert wasn't her mystery man, the man from the entry enjoyed watching. What better way to allow him to see her than to play a game everyone watched?

She would do it. The idea set her skin tingling. She had found a man who not only possessed a great presence of command, but also managed to show respect and kindness. That man was in this room; she would be a simpleton not to try and attract him.

She stepped forward into the ballroom and froze. No! Why did this have to happen? In front of her stood the reason she shunned men of presence for so long.

He hadn't noticed her. Had he? She could leave. Her body trembled as it always did when she glimpsed him. Next her lungs would lock and she would flee like the coward she was. She turned around, but Mary stood on her heel.

“Put him behind you, dear.” Mary brushed her hair over her shoulder. “It is time for you to face Dranger, to show him he has no power over you.”

She was right. Cora closed her eyes. She was too old to pique his interest anyway, so she had nothing to fear. The hair on her neck stood and her hands shook.

“If you wish to show him he is mud to you, play on Rupert's board. He will not approach you. And if Rupert is interested, he will not allow Dranger near you.”

Icy sweat slid down her back unrestrained by clothing. Mary's sultry hand slid down in its wake. Settling on her bum, her delicate hand massaged. The touch, so caring, reassured and emboldened her.

You can do this. You are no longer emotional about him. You are strong. You can put him in his place if he does approach.

“You are right. I came here tonight to enjoy myself.” She nodded her head and continued down the ballroom floor to the gathering of people who lined up on each side of the checkered floor.

Rupert regarded her. His brows drew together, and a frown crossed his lips. What did he see in her face? Could he see her fear?

She glanced to where Matthew had stood. He was gone. Her shoulders relaxed. Thank goodness.

Rupert now conversed with his brother. What handsome men they both were. Though Rupert's height and some unnameable quality said,
Respect me and mine or you will pay
. What would it be like to be with a man like him? All precise control.

She shook her head. She was not after unflappable desire. The raw carnal need she experienced in the entry this night is what she craved. Whoever her mystery man was, she would find him. Or more likely he would watch her play this game and then possess her.

E
ach brother selected their pieces from those willing to play. Rupert chose her with barely a nod.

How frustrating. He did not speak at all!

He couldn't be the man who possessed her in the hall, much less be interested in her. Her shoulders slumped, and she shifted her feet from side to side.

Many of the men assembled around the checkered floor easily fit the description her body remembered—tall and lithe. But would a master who possessed the ability to quake her also have the ability to take orders from another man? Doubtful. Surely he watched from the sides.

Rupert pointed to four men and four women and waved them to step forward. His eyes narrowed in concentration, sparked and glimmered with control she wanted to shake.

Would their offspring have the same brilliant green eyes and dark hair?

Damn, what a stray thought. Without a doubt, the sight of Matthew caused it. She shook herself and pushed the painful emotion down.

Stop staring at him. She forced herself to glance about the room. Matthew stood on Lord Brummelton's side of the board, leering at her. His narrowed gaze caressed her body, leaving bitter sweat in its wake.

She would be damned if she let him see her fear. Forcing her lips into the sultry smile she used with her protectors, she inclined her head, then tore her gaze to the pieces on the board.

That was easy. See, you can be in the same room with him and stand on your own. You have had nothing to fear all these years.

The air swirled past her as Rupert guided a selected piece to the board and placed him on a square, alternating sexes, male then female. They were his pawns. She regarded his taut bottom, a firm rounded swell encased in expertly tailored black silk trousers. Why did she keep staring at him? He did cut a striking figure, but his indifference ground her teeth.

She forced her attention back to the game and watched his brother fill up the first line on his side of the board.

One man and one woman received white lengths of silk, and Rupert placed them on the board as his bishops. Two others received long thin birch switches, his knights.

He turned back toward the remaining pieces, and the corner of his lips curved into a wicked smile that sparked his amazing green eyes. Sinful. His legs moved in easy languid strides as he approached her. Her heart jumped in her chest. He was coming for her.

She clutched her hands together in front of her and bit her lip, stomach fluttering.
Relax. You would think a man had never touched you before.

He reached out, snagged her hand, and turned it palm up. Her arm trembled as the tips of his fingers found the pulse on her wrist and gently circled the beating skin. Pinpricks raced up her arm, and her eyes widened as jade flashed, his gaze catching hers.

Oh, he had plans for her; this eyes told of intense wicked-ness and desire. She couldn't breathe. He did want her. Her gaze dropped to his firm full lips, and her tongue traced her own. She wanted to spear her tongue into his mouth and taste him.

Icy smooth stone was pressed to her fingers, and she closed them about the object, her gaze snapping back to his. He turned abruptly and strode to one of the males who remained.

A white marble dildo, half a palm's breadth wide and as long as her forearm, lay in her grasp. Her fingers ran across the frosty smooth surface. Rupert stared at her as he passed to position the man as his rook on the board's far corner.

Her body trembled. In her mind, Rupert's hands eased the cold hard prick into her until the tip pressed to her womb. Rupert's hands…Her chest tightened. Could Rupert be the man who liked to watch?

He returned to her and dragged his fingers along the scar on her belly to her hip. The muscles of her torso tensed and jumped. Oh indeed, her body knew that touch. Or did she? The control that oozed from him was opposite from what she experienced in the entry. Yet, that power shook her just as much.

When he placed his hand on the small of her back, spirals of warmth radiated from the contact up her spine and her lungs locked. Yes, indeed it was he. That soothing heat.

Her body remembered and the sensation gentled her. The strength of the irrational emotion was unexpected and a bit frightening too. Was she sure? Or could she be so hungry for a potent man's touch that any man who touched her would do?

She wanted to turn around to look him in the eye and see if that same intensity sparked his soul. Her heart beat through her limbs.

He guided her to the closest corner black square, placing her next to a knight, a man of equally impressive stature as Rupert's, and behind a woman, a pawn, who she stood a head above.

His hand left her, and he strode to the last woman who remained—a pretty, short, auburn-haired girl. Handing her a riding crop and a length of leather, he placed her on the board as his queen.

Cora narrowed her eyes. If Rupert was her watcher, shouldn't he place her in that important position, his queen on the board?

Her body might have been wrong. Damn and blast. If only he would speak, she would know for sure. The last man, a big stocky fellow, became his king.

Rupert strode down the line of pawns and stopped in front of the woman who stood before her. His hands ran down the woman's hips. Squeezing, his long fingers slid up the insides of her thighs, then disappeared, reappearing at her sides about breast height. He leaned in, his head dipping below the woman's shoulder, and suckling sounds ensued.

Cora stood on her tiptoes, but blast it, all she could see was the dark hair atop Rupert's head. The woman groaned, her head tilted back and her shoulder blades shuddered.

Her teeth clenched and she tore her gaze away as envy seared through her. She wanted his lips on her skin, sucking her breasts.

As his head rose, green dilated eyes met hers and he winked. Winked. Good Lord, he possessed no compassion. He damn well knew he affected her, and he taunted her with it.

He continued up the row of pawns, sucking and pinching each woman until they groaned. Caressing and rubbing each man's prick until they grew stiff. Then he came down the back line.

What would those graceful hands do to her when he touched her? The carnal animal in her cried out for his hands on her body, to control her as he so effortlessly did everyone on the board. Her muscles grew tense with desire for a man she didn't know. How terrifying. Two men? Hmmm…

His brother aroused his power pieces first and now ended with his pawns. Placed in the far corner of the board, she would be the last piece Rupert touched. Was that significant?

She tried to behold anything that made his actions toward her seem like that of the man in the hall. There was nothing.
Foolish girl wishes. You are certainly no longer a girl.

Did she think that finding the man who touched her soul would be that easy?

He approached her, his eyes heavy, pupils dilated in arousal and a happy cat-that-ate-his-cream grin on his face. Any man would be elated to have a harem of men and women to order about and touch sexually. She rolled her eyes at him, and he chuckled as he stepped behind her. Her breath caught at the deep tone and extreme closeness of his body. He had not stepped behind any other piece on the board. His steamy hands squared her shoulders to face the opposite team.

She imagined his gaze running down the length of her spine, stopping to caress the swells of her bottom. He inhaled a choppy breath as his fingers slid down her collarbone to the top of her breasts, then flexed.

Gooseflesh raced up her arms, and he wrapped his hold about her shoulders. Fingers slipping lower, he pinched her straining nipples.

Those hands.
She sighed.

The scent of warm smoky honey slid through her nose, and she groaned deep and low in her chest. Warm breath wafted her ear.

“Who am I, Cora?”

A wave of heat washed over her at the sound of the deep voice that had caressed her so thoroughly in the hall.

Without a doubt, it was he. The smell, the sound, the touch, all the same.

His hands slid farther down her stomach to the mound of hairs that covered her sex.

“Yes.”

“Who am I?” His finger lightly pulled, pinching the hairs.

“Mr. Rupert Roland, the wicked scoundrel.”
Who knows exactly how to touch me.
Yes, oh yes. Her knees weakened. She wanted this man.

“How astute. Is there more?”

One of his long fingers slid into her slick folds, and she whimpered, holding herself still.

“N-no.” Oh indeed, a lot more. Her eyes fluttered shut. He pressed his erection against her bum, and a groan puffed past her lips.

“Do you desire me, Cora?”

Her insides quivered. Couldn't he tell? She was a puddle on the floor. Trembling gooseflesh primed her skin. His finger circled her clitoris, and her hips arched into his hands.

“You need to ask?” A gush of wetness seeped from her body, showing him without words. She moaned.

Grunting, he trailed his tongue down the line of her neck. He slid his fingers from her tingling flesh and, trailing them back up her stomach, released her.

She turned her head toward him, and he ran a finger coated with her cream across her lips. Her tongue slid out and lapped her scent from him. His eyes flashed with desire at the sight. He turned and left her to make his opening move.

She closed her eyes as chills of excitement chased up her arms. Not only would this man watch her, but he would also put her in situations he desired. Her skin dewed with moisture.

What would the wicked Mr. Roland have her do to titillate him?

 

Rupert's muscles clenched hard as a rock. His heart beat triple time, a reaction he had not experienced because of a woman in ages.

She desired him. Knowing who and what he was.

So why had she turned him down so many times? He had not changed in physical appearance…well, except for a bit of gray in the sides of his hair.

It was a question he needed answered. None of her being here tonight made sense to him. The fear he glimpsed on her face on occasion compounded his bafflement. With her strength, her experience, this game, one of the club's milder events, should be tame to her. He hated to see those heart-shaped lips frown. A pout—that was one thing, but a genuine frown made his gut clench.

His brother stood across from him and nodded for him to start the game.

Concentrate, chap. Not only do you want to win, you need to figure out how to get Cora into a taking position.

If he maneuvered her right, he just may get to see her pleasure more than one of his brother's pieces. Rupert strode to the center of the board and leaned down to the pawn in front of his king.

“Move two spaces forward. Rub your hand over your cock but do not spend.”

The pawn strode forward to the center of the board; once there, the pawn's hand slid up the silky surface of his prick. Rupert turned to watch Cora.

She stood watching his every move. A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed hard. Her desire shone in her eyes and in the pretty blush that tinged her skin.

He couldn't believe how beautiful she was. More so than he remembered. Maybe it was because he'd never seen her naked or touched her. No…At eighty, she would be more beautiful than most silly debuts.

He couldn't wait to see her face as he moved her into play and forced her to spend. His heart beat a maddening tattoo beneath his chest, his cock stiffer than any erection he had experienced in years.

But who? Emma and Kit were both pieces on his brother's board. Either one of them would do, but having her fuck the black king in a checkmate would be the ultimate win and a sight to feed his vigor.

His muscles clenched and he rolled his shoulders, imagining her light moans and a spine-tingling scream when she spent. A pearl of arousal drizzled from his cock, dampening his pants.
Randy, chap.
He chuckled to himself.

Well, it was too soon to get lusty for an act that may never happen. He would have to see what opportunities arose.