2Rakehell (5 page)

“You watched longer than any lady ought to have,” he teased.

Oh God he was torturing her. Torturing her!

Her fists clenched at her sides. “I didn’t fetch you from
the bowels of that opium den to stand here and allow you to humiliate me.”

“What I’m going to do to you, my darling, is a far cry from
humiliation.”

“You’re…you’re humiliating me now. This very instant. By
having me stand here…naked.”

His gaze drifted down and back up, reigniting that
perfidious desire in her once more.

“Are you not excited?” he asked. “Aroused by my eyes on your
lush body?”

She stammered incomprehensibly.

He let out a little laugh, a devilish sound that made her
want to throw herself recklessly into his arms.

“Don’t answer that,” he said and put one finger on her lips.
With the other hand he reached between her legs. Her body jolted as fingertips
came into contact with her already slippery folds. “Your body tells me
otherwise. It tells me you want my touch, my mouth…my cock.”

Yes, yes and yes, damn you to hell you infernal bastard!

“Have you lain awake at night replaying the scene with Lady
Beckham in your head?” he asked.

She didn’t want to admit it. He started to withdraw his
fingers. “Yes, yes!” she confessed. Anything to ensure his touch remained.

He anchored her by placing one hand on her shoulder as he
pushed farther into her folds, farther into—

She let out a yelp of mingled surprise and satisfaction as
his index finger slipped into her body.

“Did you touch yourself this way when you recalled those
sordid events?”

She wanted to lean against him, to spread her legs to give
him greater access. She did not want to discuss her shameful habits with him.

“Tell me, sweet wife. There should be no more secrets
between us.”

She swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

“Mmm,” he voiced. “Describe your fantasy to me. In detail,
mind you.”

She couldn’t look at him and do this, so she gave in and
leaned into the rock-hard wall of his chest. Her fingers clutched at the folds
of his shirt. “In…instead of Lady Beckham, it is I who is…bent over your…legs.”
God, she couldn’t think with that finger burrowing inside her channel. It felt
so wonderfully, sinfully good.

“Go on,” he urged as his finger plumbed her lazily.

“My…my dress is up. My drawers are down just far enough to
bare my…my bottom. Oh…” His finger worked with more insistence, robbing her of
the ability to think clearly.

“And then…” he encouraged.

“You call me names.”

“What sort of names?” he asked.

“Naughty girl. Naughty…naughty, that’s all I can think of.
Oh please…” His languid touch was propelling her toward orgasm.

“Isn’t there more?”

The words came easier now. “You tell me I must be punished,
that I must be…spanked.”

“Would you like to be spanked now?”

She mewled. She could never request such a thing. Never! He
was mad. She was mad for letting him do this to her, for allowing him to coerce
her to admit things no sane woman should. Her body rocked against his finger,
seeking, wanting.

Needing.

“Let me die,” she pleaded. “Let me die on your fingers.”

His pace slowed. She gritted her teeth in frustration.

“Would you like me to spank you?” he asked again.

“No…” Her voice was uncertain.

“Shall I stop then?” he asked, threatening to remove his
fingers again.

“No, no.” She was on the verge of tears.

This time he did remove his fingers. He traced her bottom
lip with one so that she tasted her own sweet essence. Disappointment threaded
through her as she kissed the pad pressed to her mouth. This was improper.
Everything about him was indecent.

And damn her to hell, she wanted dreadfully to be a part of
it.

He thumbed back a strand of hair that had escaped her
chignon. “To hell with it,” he muttered and with one pop of the pin holding it
all in place her locks tumbled down around her shoulders, swinging to caress
the skin of her back. “Tell me what you want, Primrose. Tell me how you want me
to dominate you. Give me your consent and I’ll take you to the height of
pleasures you could never imagine.”

Searching his eyes, she stared.

“Give me your will and in return, I’ll give you permission
to feel, to know arousal and desire.” His warm breath fanned her cheeks.

Drawing in enough air became difficult. Her mind clouded
with the need for culmination.

“Sexual indulgences beyond your comprehension,” he
continued. “They can all be yours with one simple word, darling.”

Need blossomed so strong a tear rolled down her cheek.

“There is nothing to fear,” he promised. “You will see that
what we will do together is an intricate dance with complex steps. Boundaries I
will push you toward but will never cross—unless you so desire it.”

He tipped her chin up and his lips brushed across hers. He
hadn’t kissed her since their wedding day. There’d been a time when a chaste
kiss from him was all she dreamed of. Not now.

No.

She wanted far more than kissing from him. She drew back.
“If these are your terms then let’s be perfectly clear. What do you require of
me?” Her voice was terse as she struggled to keep it from betraying her equal
emotions of lust. Of fear.

“Complete submission.”

She jerked her chin at him. “I don’t trust you.”

“Nor do I,” he chided with a grin. “That’s why you will have
a word of your choosing that you can utter if you wish me to stop.”

“A word? And you’ll stop whatever…whatever you’re doing?” It
seemed too simple to work. “What about stop?”

He shook his head. “I won’t believe you.” His eyebrow arched
wickedly.

“What do you mean, then? A word such as…mother?”

He blurted a mirthless laugh. “I’m certain that particular
word would bring the festivities to an abrupt halt. I’d prefer something less…
unpleasant.”

“Do you find the idea of me being the mother of your child
so odious?”

“You misunderstand.” He shook his head. “Not you, love.”

She peered at him, still not comprehending. But his words
gave her a brilliant idea. “Love.”

He stared.

She stood firm. “Love. That’s my word.”

Although he seemed taken aback he nodded. His eyes glittered
diabolically. “Well then. So it is. I hope never to hear it uttered from your
pretty lips.”

She didn’t care if he’d just insulted her. Right now she
wanted but one thing from him. “I agree to your terms. Spank me.”

Instantly she wondered if she’d chosen the wrong path. His
amber eyes darkened. Gone was his playful demeanor. A muscle in his jaw
twitched. “On your knees, darling.”
He turned and strode toward the wingback
chair in her room.

Primrose gaped as he sat and patted his thigh.

“You’ll receive an extra swat for disobedience,” he said
calmly. “Drop to your knees and crawl over here.”

Love, love, love…

Her lips trembled but she couldn’t utter the word. Not
before she saw what this was all about—this thing that had haunted her
fantasies since she’d spied on him that night in the garden.

But did he intend to punish her for deceiving him on their
wedding night?

“Hesitation will earn you another,” he warned.

Slowly she sank to the thick carpet as he watched intently.
Her heart pounded so hard it made her eyes water. The knowledge of what he was
about to do to her coupled with the fear of the unknown seized hold of her like
an intoxicating drug. She’d never felt so alive, so a part of her own body.

He crooked his finger, motioning for her to come to him.

She couldn’t do this. Every ounce of sanity inside her
denounced this behavior. It was debauched. Lewd!

And yet no one need ever know. The whole world already
thought her a fallen woman for having married Adam Black in the first place.

She cast aside everything she’d been taught about decorum
and began to crawl. The carpet was soft under her palms and knees and the act
of moving toward him in this manner, the illusion of being powerless, surprised
her in its sensuality.

His eyes warmed as she neared. The approval in his gaze
aroused her and she began to move just for him. Catlike and lithe, her eyes
holding his, drinking in his admiration for her.

“Come,” he said hoarsely. “Lay yourself over my lap.”

Her throat constricted as she positioned herself, knees on
the floor, her abdomen across his thighs.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he said softly.

A strange excitement filled her and when she placed her
hands at the base of her spine, he curled his fingers around both her wrists,
anchoring her in place. The weight of his other hand settled on her bottom.
Every breath, every beat of her heart seemed amplified. Her channel clenched
with hard need over and over.

The hand on her bottom drifted over her flesh, rubbing,
massaging, his fingers working into the furrow between her cheeks as if he
would violate her there. A strange opposition between shame and a craving for
more caused Primrose to lift to his touch, her body betraying her desire for
that particular orifice to be abused as well.

For the first time in many years all her cares slipped away.
Her focus remained solely on her body and what her husband was about to do to
her. One word would put a stop to all this. One wor—

Smack!

“Ouch!” Sweet fire blazed through her bottom, sharp and hot,
the sting only ebbing when he rubbed the offended flesh.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

She looked up over her shoulder, her lips pursed. His gaze
searched hers and then he smiled and swatted her again.

“Ah!” she cried, but when he began to rub again, the heat
transformed into an iniquitous throbbing warmth that radiated to other parts of
her body—parts she ached for him to touch.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked. “I can see it in your
eyes.”

She lowered her lashes.

“There’s no shame in finding pleasure in the dark,” he
whispered before delivering another firm swat to her backside.

But it’s daylight outside…
She dared not argue with
him. Besides, intuition told her dark meant something completely internal. It
was this nature. This aberrant need that left her confused, left her wondering
who she’d been up until this life-altering moment.

This time when he kneaded her flesh his fingertips flirted
with her sex. She raised her bottom, desperate for him to touch her, to rub her
clit until she achieved climax.

Do what you want! Just give me release…

He gave her two more hard smacks. “Stand up, back to me.”

Shaking with erotic need, she rose and turned her back
toward him.

“Bend over. Show me your rosy arse.”

He would see too much. She couldn’t. And yet curiosity
compelled her. She bent from the waist, knowing her most hidden recesses were
on full display for his viewing. The sigh of pleasure he exhaled sent a tendril
of satisfaction through her. Was it so wrong that she felt more beautiful than
she’d ever dreamed of being bared for her husband in this shocking manner?

“Your pretty bum is red, Primrose.”

She gulped.

“Can you still feel the heat?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you wet for me?”

Her eyes closed. “Yes.”

“Show me.”

“I-I—” she stammered.

“Spread your legs and then spread your cheeks for me. I want
to see your cunny and arse.”

Oh he was every bit the blackguard. Nevertheless, she
reached behind and separated the halves of her bottom.

“Bend down farther,” he said.

Her hair swept the floor as she lowered her head. The
muscles in the back of her thighs burned from the strain. Dampness trickled
down in the inside of one leg. How could she take such wicked pleasure in this
appalling act?

“You are very wet,” he mused. “I should like a taste of that
delectable treat. Come here.”

A taste…

Pulse rioting she straightened, turned and took the two
steps that closed the distance between them. He patted the armrests as he
slouched down in the chair. “One knee here and the other here.”

Bracing her hands on the back of the chair, she climbed onto
the armrests. The stretch the chair’s width created caused her muscles to burn
anew. It felt naughty being spread this way so close to his face. Surely he
didn’t meant to—

Her breath halted when his lips brushed her abdomen. Her
flesh trembled at his touch and when his warm palms skimmed up and down her
thighs she thought she’d melt.

“Tilt your backside toward me,” he told her as with both
thumbs he parted her nether lips, opening her wide.

His hot breath fanned her. Terror consumed her and she
debated releasing their agreed-upon word, but somehow she managed to stop
herself. This was too good. Too sinful. What had become of her?

His fingers cupped her bottom and drew her closer and then
the tip of his tongue swept along the crevice between her legs. The sheer intensity
of the pleasure stunned her. Her thighs shook violently but he didn’t seem to
notice as he moved impossibly closer. His tongue did decadent things to her,
traced her folds, darted inside her and flicked the sensitive little hillock
crowning her sex.

His fingers tightened, holding her nearer while his mouth
plundered her flesh. Her nails dug into the tufted velvet on the top of the
chair. She pushed toward him, crying out when his lips latched on to her
clitoris and began to suck.

Ecstasy lurked just out of reach. Her mouth fell open but
she couldn’t draw a breath. Sweet Lord in heaven. This was too much. It was too
good.

Every flick of his tongue, every pull of his lips, every hot
breath against her flesh ratcheted her nearer and nearer to the crest. One of
her hands tangled in his hair. Her head fell back. Bliss rushed over her,
trampling her underfoot, devastating her. Inner muscles squeezed and tightened.
She wanted him inside her. Even in the midst of this raging orgasm she had
to—needed to—feel his body melding with hers.