Any Wicked Thing (16 page)

Oh, her
ira
was on full display now. She threw the hairbrush against the stone wall. “You think me prideful and lustful? How dare you? I'll admit to the pride—I've plenty to be proud about—but as to the lust, I have never in my life—” She broke off, as if realizing her lie.

Oh, yes, she had been lusty. Ten years ago when she tricked him into taking her virginity. Last night, when she writhed and moaned and came around his cock with abandon. This morning, when she was too overcome to protest tupping a chimney sweep. This afternoon, when her nipples were diamond-hard in her bath, her hand beneath the water betraying her.

“Don't be ashamed of desire, Freddie. You're not dead yet. In fact, you're very much alive, with a thirst for the carnal knowledge you can't find in all your books that I'm more than happy to teach you.”

“Ugh. It is you who is prideful, as though you're the only man in Yorkshire with a cock!”

He chuckled. “I should hope I'm the only man present who interests you. It wouldn't say much for your taste if you would prefer the grooms or the coachman or young Kenny. And you'd kill old Warren with just one of your kisses.”

“You are ridiculous,” she said crossly.

Her face was flushed, her chest heaving from their argument. Her blood was coursing as hot as his, and it would take all his effort not to fuck her right here, right now. But the stage was set in his room, and there they would play.

He held out a hand. “Come. We're wasting my day talking about sin when we can be doing it.”

She ignored his outstretched arm and rose from the chair. “What if I've changed my mind about the castle, Sebastian? I'm beginning to think this is all too much trouble.”

“Too late, my lady. You've put it in writing.”

S
he felt his eyes on her as she climbed the stairs to her doom. She'd been in his power not much more than twenty-four hours, although technically the day had belonged to her. She had botched that badly, thinking she could keep him at arm's length or sword point. She'd made an insincere effort to repel him this morning and could still feel traces of his kisses and cock no matter how hard she tried to scrub them away in the bath.

He was too handsome. But depraved. She should not like him so well—it went against all her better sense. He was a libertine with a wicked, teasing tongue who took nothing in life seriously. He would always answer “Why?” with “Why not?” Nothing seemed forbidden, and he seemed to have no shame or conscience. Not once did he question her proposal, or remind her that she would be forever ruined over real estate. He had accepted the offer of her body as his due, and had treated her as the most wicked harlot imaginable last night. The shocking kisses to her core, the restraints, the opulent cream, the curious toy—all of it designed to subjugate her into his honeyed trap. She'd been defenseless. Witless. Wanton.

She paused on the last step to the tower room and turned to him. With one hearty shove, he could fall and crack his empty skull. “Don't you ever get tired of your form of amusement, Sebastian?”

“You've read too many temperance tracts, Freddie, and listened to too many zealots who espouse abstinence because they cannot get it up. Why should anyone get tired of pleasure in all its variety? I don't believe we were put on this earth to suffer if we can help it. Don't lie to me and tell me you found my cock in your cunt distasteful. Given time, you'll want it everywhere. Your mouth. Your arse.” He reached to cup her bottom, his eyes glittering.

She slumped against the wall. Why did she waste her breath? His evil habits were ingrained, and were unlikely to change unless he got the pox and his nose fell off. He was not meant to be steady and dependable, or a husband and a father.

Which was just as well, as she had no need of him or any other man.

This affair was just a means to an end, to secure her future. She would do what he asked, because it meant nothing to either of them. Perhaps he was right. The pleasures of the flesh were basic. Animals did not pause in their rutting to question sin or proper positions. She'd heard the old ribald joke: “Why does the dog lick its balls? Because it can.” Sex was nothing more than animal instinct, no matter how intellectual she fancied herself to be or how many books she read or wrote. There was probably no better man in all of England than Sebastian Goddard, Duke of Roxbury, to awaken her baser nature. Once he was gone, she would get back to normal and pray for forgiveness of her sins. Apparently, there were a great many of them ahead.

His room was warm, the only light cast from a tarnished candelabra and the firelight. Dim was good, the better to hide the evidence of her sweet tooth and lack of exercise. She'd had no one to fence with for months. The late duke's scholarly friends had stopped turning up once it was clear Frederica would not part with any valuable resources, and in any event, most of the friends were old and somewhat infirm, hardly a worthy challenge to her hard-won skills.

The duke had lived to a great age himself. He had married late in life, finally giving in for the need of an heir. And when he had, her father married, too. Their experiments with the opposite sex did not last long, and when Freddie's mother died in childbed, it was only natural for Joseph Wells to reunite with his longtime friend. Freddie remembered Sebastian's mother as a kindly, ladylike woman who loved to create beautiful interiors at Roxbury Park, filled with flowers and fluffy pillows. She would have been miserable in Goddard Castle, and horrified to know her little ward had grown up to fence with gentlemen.

It had been exhilarating this morning sparring with Sebastian, and tomorrow she would order him to the long gallery again. But tonight—the bed was turned down, the ropes coiled and ready. Her heart hitched and her hand trembled at the ribbon on her yoke.

“Let me.” He stood over her, so close she could smell the mint and wine on his breath. His lean face was all shadow and edge, his eyes dark with evident desire. So she must not be so terribly fat after all.

Although, she reminded herself once again, he fucked everything.

He pulled the ribbon loose, slipping his hand inside the linen to cup a breast, still staring at her to gauge her response. When she didn't flinch, he pebbled her nipple between his fingertips, rolling it to a jewel-like peak. She felt the heat of his touch skitter down her belly to her bare mons. Yet he went no further than to massage her breast, gliding and flicking until she wanted so much more. As if he intuited her unspoken need, he bent to her fabric-covered nipple and suckled, his tongue swirling over the thin cloth until the friction was unbearable. She wished he'd rip her nightgown from her and tie her to the bed, giving her no choice but to allow him everything.

Anything.

Any wicked thing.

He caught her as she swayed, his mouth never leaving her body, tugging on her breast so she felt the pull to her womb. She held tight to him, unable to tell him to stop. Unwilling to lie, ashamed of her quick capitulation. He eased her onto the bed, his hands busy relieving her of the nightgown and smoothing down her skin. She closed her eyes to his triumphant expression, lay perfectly still as he wrapped her wrists and ankles in his ropes. Despite the fire, gooseflesh crept down her neck as she waited for what was to come.

“Ah, Frederica. You are exquisite.” His voice was rough, coming from a distance away from the bed. It pleased her that he'd not called her by that silly childhood nickname. “Open your eyes.”

She complied, only to see him still in his dark robe, a slender tasseled crop in his hand. Her tongue froze in shock, and then she cried out.

“Oh, God, no, Sebastian!”

“I will not harm you. Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“I'll change your mind.” He laid the whip across her lips, then trailed the tassels down her throat. The soft leather tickled more than anything. She watched as he brushed her nipples, circling the tips gently. The sensation was rather like tiny warm fingers playing across her skin. Sebastian's face was a study in concentration, as though he were memorizing each freckle and indentation. He inserted an end of the whip into her navel and held it still for a few seconds, pressing just hard enough for her to gasp, then continued to sweep down her body. Parting her labia, he stroked her clitoris, the fronds of leather a mere whisper against her swollen flesh.

“Sebastian!”

He lifted a wicked black eyebrow. “Yes?”

“You—I—”

He stopped the dreadful teasing. “Does it hurt?”

“No. It's—it's not enough.” She would kill him tomorrow if he laughed at her tonight.

“What do you want, Frederica?”

“I don't know.”

He slipped the length of the crop vertically within her folds. The tasseled tip rested over her belly. “Do you like this? Or would you prefer this?” His hand replaced the crop, plucking her bud between his fingers. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. “Or do you want my mouth there again, Frederica? Tell me.”

She wouldn't beg. “I don't care.”

“Little liar. I'll tell you what.” He pulled the banyan over his head. Beneath it he was naked and marble-hard. Frederica felt an embarrassing gush of liquid between her open legs. “I'll kiss your cunt, Frederica. You tasted so sweet last night, I thought about you all day. But you'll taste me, too. I'm going to come in your mouth, and you'll come in mine.”

“What?” His words made her dizzy. He was untying her wrists, and this time whatever knots he'd set didn't require cutting the bonds. He pulled her up to a sitting position, her legs still splayed wantonly.

“I'm going to be greedy now.
Avarita
. Me first. Another day we'll come in concert.”

On his knees now, he straddled her body, his cock jutting toward her breasts. “Cup my stones.”

She reached out gingerly. She saw the vein in his cock pulse as she touched him, its tip pearled with fluid. He fisted her hair and drew her closer.

“Bend to me and take me in your mouth.”

“I don't—”

“Anything, Frederica. You promised. In writing.”

She looked up at him, helpless. “I—I don't know what to do.”

“You're a smart girl. Just don't bite me, or I
will
use the whip on you.”

Frederica shuddered. She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. He shoved some pillows behind her and pushed her head down, stroking the curve in her back until she opened to him and began to suckle. Sebastian muttered something encouraging, and her tongue and lips became bolder, licking from root to tip until he plunged himself deeper. One hand snaked down between them to circle her center as the hot velvet of him filled her mouth.

She knew at once when the power shifted. His breathing was ragged, his hold on her clumsy now, his touches more desperate. She didn't care whether she reached her climax—there was nothing more important than finding a rhythm to bring him to his, to taste the salty jet of semen that coated her tongue and dripped down her throat. She pumped her cheeks and milked his every drop, glancing up at him as he came. He stared back, his eyes black, his mouth twisted in what looked like agony. She knew better.

“Did you read this in a book, too?” he gasped, withdrawing and taking her face in his hands. He kissed her forehead and she suddenly felt like a child being rewarded for good behavior. But she had been very, very bad. The wonder of it was shocking. Thrilling.

She sat still while Sebastian took a corner of the sheet and wiped her mouth. His touch was tender, careful, a change from how rough he'd been earlier. But she hadn't minded his loss of control.

She shook her head. “There cannot be books about such things.”

He laughed. “Oh, Freddie, you'd be surprised. We'll go exploring in my trunk another time.”

“What else do you have in there?”

“One day at a time, love. I wouldn't want you to get bored before the month is out.”

Frederica did not think boredom would ever be associated with this Duke of Roxbury. She slipped from his arms and lay back down on the bed. “I believe it's my turn now.”

“It is. You've more than earned it.” He eyed the restraints hanging slack from the rings at the head of the bed and raised a dark eyebrow.

She pulled the silk ropes closer, sliding her hands into the loops. Let him tighten them and tie her so she wouldn't fly off as he took her to heaven. Tonight, she was willing to be subject to his every whim. She'd find her conscience later.