Having Patience (4 page)

She wet her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. “James.”

“Much better,” he said. “Now, still holding your nipples, I want you to squat and spread your legs open for me.”

She couldn’t possibly! But she’d known it was coming. It was almost the part of the underlined passage that had excited her the most. Almost.

Rocking to the balls of her feet, Patience squatted, maintaining her vice grip on her nipples. The posture itself caused her to spread her thighs for no other reason than to maintain her balance.

A muscle in James’s jaw clenched and he cocked his head to the side as he scrutinized her.

Patience’s face blazed. Her nipples burned. Her clitoris throbbed and the muscles in her legs strained.

“Wider,” he commanded.

She spread her legs but only a fraction wider.

“All the way,” he said, sliding the lamp on the table beside his chair closer to the edge.

Patience knew the light shadowed her most hidden recesses.

“Wider. As wide as you can.”

She spread her legs until the muscles of her inner thighs burned from the stretch.

“You’re glistening wet,” he rasped.

Patience hadn’t expected that. The compulsion to cover herself welled but then, James ordered her to do the unthinkable.

“Take your fingers and hold your cunny lips open for me.”

With trembling hands, she reached between her legs and smoothed back her mound of curls and then pulled open her nether lips. Her heart pounded. She hadn’t expected to find herself so wet and slippery.

“I could put one finger inside you and bring you to bliss,” he said, his gaze riveted to her—
down there
. “One finger.” To illustrate his point he slid his index finger into his mouth and Patience wanted to bolt.

“Lie down on the floor,” he said. “Lie back so that I can still see your sweet treasures.”

She reclined on her crumpled dressing gown.

“Spread,” he said. “I want to see you—all of you—at all times. Do you understand?”

“Yes, James.”

Knees up and thighs open, she folded her hands over her stomach.

“Oh no, love. This isn’t just a show for me,” James told her. “This is for your pleasure.”

Oh God, yes.
Could she really do this with him watching?

“Put one hand on your breast and knead your nipple. Slide the other hand between your legs, Patience.”

Her breast rose and fell against her hand as she began to work the nipple with her fingertips.

“Rub your clitoris,” he said. “Look at me and rub yourself.”

As she began to massage the button that had so demanded her attention, she felt as if she were another person. Obeying his commands made this easy—made it good.

The sensations between her nipple and her clitoris connected and Patience gave in to the demands of her body and her husband. Holding his gaze, she worked the fingers between her legs in a circular motion, faster and faster, harder and harder…

Until…

She sucked in a breath as something new and wonderful built and then crested inside her. Her thighs trembled and her stomach tensed. Her channel pulsed furiously. The sound of her own moans filled her ears as ripple after delicious ripple rolled through her body.

“Don’t stop,” she heard James’s voice urging her own.

She had no intentions of stopping.

James’s stroked his cock through his trousers. Everything inside him screamed at him to free it and plunge it into her. She would allow it now. She’d welcome it.

Moving even closer to the edge of his chair, he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his trousers.
Take her. Fuck her.

Oh, to feel her body rise beneath him as he mounted her…

He hesitated.

She still writhed, wresting all the pleasure she could from her body. Her legs closed and she twisted onto her side, rocking against her hand, still tugging her own nipple.

What else would she want?

What other passages would she underline?

End this. Fuck her.

No. “No,” his lips formed the words. Conquests had, thus far, been easy for him. Since he’d been a grown man, women had willingly pulled up their gowns and opened their legs for him.

This time, he
wanted
her to ask. And he wouldn’t touch her until she indicated by underlining a passage in a book that it was exactly what she wanted.

And tonight,
this
was all she had underlined. She wasn’t ready for him. At least she hadn’t indicated that she was. And as she seemed to enjoy this little game of submission and domination, he was prepared to play it with her.

Showing incredible restraint, he gained his feet.

Breathless and beautiful, Patience gazed up at him from the floor. James steeled himself. Even if she asked—even she begged—he was determined he would not fuck her tonight.

Boldly, she rolled onto her back and opened her thighs seductively. Her own orgasmic juices glistened on the fingers that still slowly circled her swollen clitoris. James sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

Good God, she was beautiful. And he was hard. So damn hard. Hot blood pumped in frantic bursts through his veins. His muscles tensed, urging him to burrow between her legs and rut her right there on the floor. But he resisted.

He trembled as he expelled a breath. “Get up. Dress yourself.”

Her lips parted in surprise.

“Good night, Patience,” he uttered and forced his feet to move toward the door. He told himself not to look back. If he did, he would lose all resolve.

But as he opened the door, he did glance back.

It was a mistake.

Patience had levered herself up on her elbows. Her delicate brows knitted upward in confusion. The fabric of her dressing gown swirled underneath her. Locks of her lovely hair cascaded across her cheeks and over her shoulders. One dusky nipple peeped from between two curling ends of her hair.

James hesitated but only for a moment before he coerced himself to leave her room. The few steps down the hall to his own suite proved almost unbearable.
Turn around, fool! Go back and fuck her!

“No.” He breathed the word as he opened his own door. Once inside, he closed it and leaned against the hard paneled wood. With furious intent, he undid the rest of the buttons on his fly, reached inside and freed his cock and gripped it in his hand.

He shut his eyes and relived the last few moments. Patience on the floor. Patience toying with her nipples. Patience finding bliss at her own touch.

Four.

Four damn strokes was all it took before he’d spewed over his own fist.

Release. He sighed.

This relief was only temporary. James knew he would not be thoroughly satisfied until his alluring wife invited him to lose himself inside her.

Chapter Four

Still sprawled amongst her clothes, Patience stared at the closed door. She’d fully expected James to ravish her right here on the floor. Why hadn’t he? What prevented him?

Shame flooded her but she forced the emotion away. He hadn’t looked at her as if she’d behaved shamefully. Not at all.

Instead, his dark eyes had blazed with lust. Desire swelled anew when she recalled how he’d stroked his phallus through his clothes, how he’d demanded that she maintain eye contact with him.

She wanted to reach between her legs and touch herself again. No. What she really wanted was to find that same pleasure with James’s cock buried to the hilt inside her.

Curious, she spread her legs and worked her fingers between the slippery folds again. Jolts of pleasure radiated from her still-throbbing clitoris. Patience arched off the floor. He told her he would kiss her
everywhere
. She imagined his mouth locked on the sensitive nub instead of her fingers. Would he really kiss her
there
?

“God in heaven,” she muttered out loud as she rocked against her hand. What would it feel like to have a warm, wet tongue tasting her here? She hadn’t been able to get that one intense kiss they’d shared out of her thoughts. His mouth had been so insistent, his lips drawing hers to respond, his tongue delving, exploring.

How would it feel to have that talented tongue probing her the way her fingers touched her now?

Sodomy.

Miss Killian’s voice intruded in her thought.

Sodomy! Wicked! Sinful!

Shaking, Patience withdrew her hand. Unable to breathe, she stared at her glistening fingers. What had she done? What had she allowed herself to do?

Naughty!

She snatched her nightgown and began wiping her own juices off her fingers, rubbing until the skin was raw. She suddenly found her own nudity, which had excited her only moments ago, disgraceful. Shame flamed in her cheeks as she yanked the nightgown over her head, careless that the garment was inside out.

Her breathing quickened to the point that she feared her heart would burst. After clambering to her feet, she rushed to her washstand and poured some water in the basin, heedless that it splashed onto her gown and the floor. She wet a cloth and then squeezed her eyes shut as she reached beneath her hem to erase any and all remnants of her own scandalous behavior.

But even as she chided herself, she knew she would have to select a passage for tomorrow night.

Perhaps it would be easier if she allowed him to consummate the marriage—if she just got it over with. Then, maybe, he would finally leave her alone.

* * * * *

Patience spent the morning scouring books for a new passage. Everything she read heated her cheeks with shame. She could scarcely believe a respectable person would put a pen to such bawdy tales of desire, much less find a publisher to print them.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not bring herself to underline a single sentence. She’d dipped her pen in the ink several times only to let the ink dry on the tip.

She still couldn’t believe how she’d lain on the floor the night before with her own hand between her legs while James had watched. Trying to blot out the memory, Patience squeezed her eyes closed but she could not dispel the image of his gaze riveted to where her hand had worked her to a state of bliss.

Opening her eyes, she forced herself back to the task at hand. James had asked her to have the passage ready by two and it was already half past one.

There was one chapter, however, that had caught her attention…

She glanced at the book’s cover.
Lady Anne’s Punishment.
Patience’s stomach tensed. She didn’t dare. But then again…what might James do? Would this one act push him beyond his well-defined boundaries? Would it make him lose control?

Would it make
her
lose control?

Chills broke out up and down Patience’s arms despite the warmth of her velvet sleeves. She took up the book and opened it once more. Her throat went dry as she read and reread. Would James think she was a horrid, fallen woman if she underlined this passage?

Holding her breath, she dipped her pen in the vial of ink once more and hastily circled the chapter title. Before she lost her nerve, she stood, intent on taking the book to James’s study.

Choose something else! Anything but this!

Face flaming, she clutched the book and strode into the hallway. She walked the lavishly carpeted hallways with long purposeful strides until she reached James’s office. The door was open. He was expecting her.

Heart lodged in her throat, she slipped inside.

James glanced up from the letter he was writing and when he saw her, he stood. In here, he looked like the quiet James who had courted her. His dark suit fit him impeccably. His neck cloth was tied to perfection. Here, no one would guess how his eyes blazed in the darkness. No one could fathom how he’d watched her. Commanded her.

Patience’s pulse sped.

“Good afternoon, darling,” he said.

She tried to speak but she couldn’t get her throat to work.

His gaze fell to the book and one black eyebrow arched as he scanned the title. “Are you certain?”

No!
“Yes. I’m certain.” She didn’t sound certain.

His mouth twitched and Patience knew he was trying to suppress a grin. Damn him. He was enjoying this little game and it was utter torture to her!

“Very well,” he told her.

She started to turn and leave but his hand clasped hers. Patience drew in a quick breath of astonishment as his fingers laced intimately with hers. “There will be no visitors tonight. In fact, I’ve ordered our supper to be brought to your room tonight,” he said.

Patience gaped at their interlocking fingers. Inexplicable panic welled at his touch and she blinked, trying to remain calm.

“I look forward to discovering what tonight’s…adventure…shall be,” James said softly.

Did he? Could he ever have guessed? Patience only hoped he didn’t request that she remain here with him while he read it. Everything inside her screamed at her to snatch the book and choose another passage. “I—” she began.

James released her hand and slid the book closer to him. “Are you having misgivings?”

“N—Yes,” she confessed.

A smile stretched on his sensuous lips. “Don’t. Whatever you have chosen, Patience—
whatever
pleases you—pleases me.”

“Very well,” she said, horrified at how businesslike her tone sounded. On some level, she knew—no, she wanted—to be close to him, to confide in him, to seek comfort in his arms, but there was a part of her that refused, that urged her to be strong and to fight her vulgar physical desires. “I will expect you this evening, then,” she said before she turned and left.

James stared after her. He raked his fingers through the thick hair at his temples. She was such an enigma. He sighed and then picked up the book she’d left for him. A robin’s egg blue ribbon peeped from between the pages. The book’s cover was worn, the pages well thumbed. Had this been one of Lady Lambden’s favorites? Surely Patience hadn’t had time to break the book in to this oft-read condition.

James read the title again.
Lady Anne’s Punishment.
He raised an eyebrow. Patience had chosen
this
book?

Clearing his throat, he opened the novel to the bookmark and began to read.

* * * * *

Patience stared at her empty plate.

“Would you like some more wine?” James asked but he was already pouring her glass full. Again.

“Thank you,” she replied and lifted the glass with both hands to dispel their trembling. At one sip, warmth infused her, smoldering like burning embers through her veins.

“I read the passage you selected,” James said and leaned back in his chair. “Quite frankly, I’m surprised.”

“I-I think perhaps I was too hasty in—” Patience began but James interrupted.

“Oh, no. Not at all. I think you chose wisely,” he said as he reached into his pocket to withdraw a black silk scarf.

Patience took a bigger gulp of her wine. Her pulse rioted. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

James’s gaze caressed her face. “I think it shows that you trust me,” he said. His eyes blazed. “Do you trust me, Patience?”

The moment was indescribably magnetic. “Implicitly,” she whispered. Her stomach tightened. She squeezed her thighs together.

His lips drew into a slow and devilishly wicked smile. “Take another sip of your wine.”

She obeyed.

James took a deep breath and blew it out before he stood.

Patience’s heart pumped furiously. Panic welled. She never should have chosen that passage. Never. What had she been thinking…other than that she’d imagined him doing these things to her since she’d read that damned book.

He moved behind her and she whimpered as he blindfolded her with the scarf. At once the room descended into delicious darkness. All her other senses heightened in wild anticipation. The taste of the wine on her lips. That wonderful masculine fragrance that was James. The sound of her own heart drumming against her rib cage.

His fingers curled around her arm. “Stand up.”

With his help, Patience rose and allowed him to lead her away from the chair. One by one, all intrusions from reality slipped away until there was only this darkness and her body—this palpable energy between them, his heat and his commanding voice.

His thumb brushed her bottom lip, startling her. She hadn’t expected it.

“Easy, love,” he murmured. “You know what’s going to happen.”

That was just it. She did know. All too well.

Touching her bare wrist, he moved behind her and Patience luxuriated in the feel of his heat radiating against her back. He began to unfasten the row of buttons on her dress. That same heat warmed her skin as he bared it.

Big hands pushed the fabric from her shoulders, down her arms, freeing her from the heavy gown. It whispered down her legs and crumpled around her ankles. Next, he removed the light corset she wore and her chemise. She was naked except for her thigh-high stockings and slippers. A white-hot tremor of anticipation shook her to the core.

His hands skimmed her hips as he kneeled and then carefully rolled each stocking down, removing it and her slipper at the same time. First one and then the other.

Patience wet her dry lips with the tip of her tongue as he took her hand and led her out of the pile of discarded clothing. He turned her around so that she could no longer tell where she was in her own room.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he said. His voice was rough.

Patience did as she was told even though panic surged. How could she willingly submit to this?

Once again, he was behind her, hot and big and male, binding her wrists with a second scarf. His body was so close she could feel the hard bulge in his trousers against her palms. She stiffened as he rocked his hips toward her, pressing his arousal into her hands. “Do you feel what the sight of your naked body does to me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, her voice unnaturally high-pitched.

His mouth pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck and then trailed its way to her ear. “I can do anything I want to you right now,” he threatened, tugging the scarf around her wrists for emphasis.

Patience felt as if the breath had been snatched from her lungs.

“I can touch your body,” he said, moving his palms over her bare shoulders, down her sides and around to lightly brush her abdomen.

She tensed.

“I can explore you,” he said, dipping one finger into the cleft to tease her swollen clitoris.

Patience wanted to rock into his hand, to spread for him. Instead, she remained stock-still.

A protest died on her lips when his hand moved around her hip to her bottom where a persistent finger wriggled between her arse cheeks. “Everywhere,” he uttered. Another hand splayed across her abdomen and pushed her back toward the threatening fingertip which flicked against her most private recess. Her clitoris throbbed.

“Bend over,” he commanded. It was not a request.

Channel clenching wildly, Patience bent. She would have wilted were it not for his hand still bracing her abdomen. That same hand crept up until one of her breasts was in his palm and his fingers were locked greedily on her nipple. She heard herself moan.

“Spread your legs,” he told her.

She could hardly swallow as she inched her feet apart.

His warm hand cupped her mons. She trembled. Her tied hands fisted.
Touch me. Yes there. Oh God—

As soon as his fingers brushed her clitoris, he removed his hand and began stroking her backside.

This was utter torture. What she had been thinking?

“You’re terribly alluring bent this way, with your hands tied and your treasures exposed to me,” he said.