Make Me Beg (3 page)

She stifled a grin. She could tell him he needn’t worry about underthings, but it’d be more fun to watch his expression when he found out for himself. “You’ll take your hand away if someone comes by?”

“On my honor.”

“Then, yes. Please demonstrate.”

He slid his hand upward from her ankle, disturbing her dress as little as possible as he reached her calf and then her knee. A bit higher, he stopped, and his eyes went wide.

“My dear Mrs. Trent. You’re naked under there.”

“Prepared for our picnic.”

He stroked her slowly, from her knee all the way to her pussy. “Your cunny has prepared itself for my cock. You’re wet.”

“Why does that surprise you?”

He stared up at her face, and his eyes held a lazy, heated look. “I’ve hardly touched you.”

“But, you will.”

“Only if you want me to.”

“I do,” she said.

He turned his attention to the movements of his hands, visible under the rustle of her dress and petticoats. With the same attention to detail he’d shown with his kiss, he caressed every curve of her thighs, just grazing the lips of her pussy. They felt heavy and full, swelling to part and invite his fingers to explore.

Suddenly, the air went thick, and she had to concentrate to pull enough into her lungs. Warm honey seemed to flow in her veins and pool at her sex. Moisture seeped out of her, and he smoothed it like a lotion into her skin.

“You’d like me to slip a finger inside you and then rub it over your pearl.” He made it into a simple statement of fact.

“I would,” she whispered.

“Would you beg for it?”

She bit her lip and shook her head.

“What if I were to give you a taste of what I can do?”

“I still wouldn’t beg.” Although she’d tried to keep her voice even, it wavered.

He chuckled. On his next pass, he parted her lips and probed with one finger at the entrance to her sex. She couldn’t help but gasp. It felt so good. Not as glorious as if he’d eased his cock into her. Just enough to tease, to promise at future pleasure.

“You want me inside you,” he said.

“Yes.” That came out on a whimper.

“In the right position, I could plunge my cock into you and toy with your clitoris at the same time.” This time, she didn’t even try to stifle her moan of pleasure.

“Would you beg for that?”

“No.”
Yes. Yes, I’d beg.

“Are you sure?”

She gritted her teeth and fought for control. For some distraction from how his touch set her every nerve to thrumming.
Breathe deeply. In and out. Breathe, breathe.

He pressed a finger inside her again, and her muscles clenched around him. Then, without warning, his thumb rubbed over her clitoris.

“God,” she cried as her whole body jerked. Something splashed, and wetness soaked into her dress.

Her wine. She hadn’t put it down. She opened her eyes to find her fist clutched around the stem of the glass. Nothing remained inside. She laid it on the ground beside the blanket.

“Damn, I’m sorry.” He pulled his arm from under her skirt, found his napkin and dabbed at the spreading stain. “I’m an idiot. I should have taken that from you.”

She managed to fill her lungs with air. “My fault.”

“Your dress is ruined.” He kept dabbing at her skirt, and even through all the layers of fabric, her sex responded to the pressure. “I’ll replace it, of course.”

“I can afford my own dresses, Mr. Boulton,” she said.

“I know you can, Mrs. Trent. I’m trying to behave like a gentleman.”

“A gentleman with his hand under the clothing of a woman he’s not married to?”

“I had your permission, I believe.”

He had more than that, more than cooperation. In another moment, he would have had her begging. He’d done her a favor by forgetting about the wine. She still throbbed, but she’d taken control of herself and not a moment too soon.

“Of course, you had my permission, but if you’d like to give me something to pay for the dress, I have something to ask,” she said.

“Of course.”

“Think before you agree,” she said.

A wary look entered his eyes. “Is it something I won’t like?”

“You’ll like it,” she said. “Maybe too much.”

“You intrigue me.”

“I’d like to suck on your cock.”

He laughed outright at that. A hearty sound from deep in his chest.

“You find that funny?” she asked.

“I find it delightful.”

“Then, I have
your
permission.”

“Do your damnedest, Mrs. Trent. You won’t make me beg.”

They’d see about that. She pushed his shoulder until he lay back against the blanket. His rigid member pushed up against his fly, so by the time she’d finished undoing the buttons, his breath was already coming in a shallow, rapid rhythm. When she finished, she reached inside and pulled his cock free.

This male part of him was beautifully proportioned, despite its size. Thick at the base and tapering a bit toward the tip. A vein ran along the underside, and she could feel the beat of his heart in it. The ruddy color gave away his secret. Flushed color against her pale fingers suggested an advanced state of arousal. She wouldn’t need to do much to make him plead for mercy.

“Satisfied?” he said.

“Magnificent.” She wrapped her fist around the shaft and stroked. “Any woman would want this fine fellow inside her.”

“Do you?”

“Oh, yes. But, I won’t beg.” She bent and ran her tongue around the rim of the head. A slight tang of salt spoke even louder of his excitement.

She glanced up at his face. “You made yourself hot just by talking to me and touching me.”

“It isn’t often I put my hand under a woman’s skirt to find a naked pussy.”

He did put his hand under women’s skirts often, though. She already knew that much from his reputation. It shouldn’t have annoyed her.

Well, she’d have to worry about that later. She had a much more pleasant task at hand. This time, when she lowered her head, she sucked the tip of him into her mouth.

A soft “ahhh” came from him. Approval. So, she took more of him, swallowing as much of his shaft as she could. His hips moved, thrusting him upward. She kept her fingers tight around the base of him to hold him off. A cock this size would never fit inside her mouth, but she could stimulate the whole thing if she used her hands, as well.

“You do that well.” He kept thrusting gently upward as he’d do if he’d entered her quim. Her mind filled with images of him doing exactly that. Her own excitement hadn’t disappeared but had only abated to deal with a soiled dress and a challenge to reduce Boulton to begging. While his cock throbbed inside her mouth, her pussy did the same. Reaching for something it needed for relief. With an ordinary lover, she’d straddle him now and let him fuck her until she spent all around him. With this one, she’d have to resist the temptation.

Instead, she worked him harder. She pumped her hand along the base of him and reached into his pants with the other to cup his sac. At her touch, it seemed to contract and grow firm, preparing for the inevitable explosion.

“Damn,” he gritted.

She lifted her mouth from his rod but kept clutching it in her fist. “Good?”

“Never had…oh, God…like this.”

“I can lower myself onto you and let you fuck me until you come.” If she did, he wouldn’t beg, and she had him so close. “Would you like to put this into my wet cunny?”

“Mercy!” It was a strangled cry. Close to losing their bet. So close.

She continued stroking him, now faster, and a droplet of white appeared at the tip of him. “When I climax, my pussy grips my lover’s cock over and over. Would you like to feel that?”

“For the love of God, finish me and get it over.”

She made one swipe of her tongue along the underside of his cock and flicked it over the tip. “Begging?”

He gritted his teeth so hard, she could almost hear his jaw creak. “No.”

“You wouldn’t beg to have my wetness all around you, the muscles milking you dry?”

“No.” That denial didn’t sound at all as firm as the previous one.

“I’ve failed, then.” She removed her mouth but kept up the pressure of her fingers on the root of his sex. “I guess I’ll have to sit here and let you play with my pussy again.”

He lifted his head in wide-eyed shock. “What?”

“You’re not going to beg, so what’s the point continuing?”

“Damn it, woman. Can’t you see what state I’m in?”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. His member was livid now. Ready to explode with lust. She’d never treat a man this way, but this man needed to learn who was in charge here.

“If neither of us is willing to beg, we might as well straighten our clothes and drive back to town,” she said.

He pounded a fist against the blanket. “All right, all right.”

“You want to fuck my pussy?”

“What in bloody hell else are we talking about?”

“Say it,” she said.

“I want to fuck your pussy.”

“Beg.”

“Damn you,” he growled.

She sucked him deep for only a second and then lifted her head again.

“Very well,” he shouted. “I’m begging.”

Finally! After tugging at her skirts, she lifted a leg over him. She still held his cock, so she had no trouble guiding it between her lips and sinking down onto him.

With a roar, he thrust upward, impaling her on a column of velvet over steel. She answered his cry with one of her own. He fit inside her so perfectly, stretching her for maximum pleasure. As she straddled him like this, her dress fell all around their hips. It would hide their joining from view, but no one could miss what went on between them as he pushed up into her and she planted her hands on his ribs for anchor as she moved with him.

“So good,” she moaned. “I will spend and soon.”

“Hurry,” he said. “Can’t last.”

Already the orgasm was coiling in on itself, building to the shattering moment when she could no longer resist it. She moved faster now, meeting his upward movements with deep slides along his length. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feel of him stroking her inner muscles.

Something rubbed against her clitoris. The pad of his thumb. He’d burrowed his hand under her clothing to find the nub. He made circles over it, setting her nerves on fire. Impossible, and yet, real.

Her sex contracted all around him and then burst into spasms. The climax went on until she couldn’t breathe. Somewhere her mind registered that he was coming, too, as he slammed up into her and released his seed in burning waves against the entrance to her womb. They stayed that way together until the storm passed. Now weak, she could only lower herself to his chest and take quick breaths while her sex fluttered in the aftermath of her passion.

When some amount of sanity returned, Thomas put his arms around his lover and stroked her hair. Softening now, his cock still remained deep inside her. Such a heavenly connection. If only this moment could go on forever. Lying under this tree with warm breezes washing over them. Dozing and then waking up to enjoy more of the wine and food he’d brought. After a while, making love a different way. He still hadn’t seen her body, hadn’t felt the weight of her breasts in his palms, hadn’t placed his mouth over her pearl and listened to her song of joy as he brought her to climax with his tongue.

She shifted and sighed. “That was wonderful.”

“Too weak a word. It was remarkable, astonishing.” Like nothing he’d experienced before, and he’d had plenty of encounters. None compared to this one. “Your pussy came alive around my cock.”

“It felt like the opposite to me.”

“No matter. We fit together well.”

She lifted her head and gazed into his face. “And to think I was going to give up looking for the right man.”

“And I was going to give up fucking.”

“I’m glad we met.” She rested her head against his chest again and gave a little groan of satisfaction. “I may visit all the private libraries in London before I go home.”

The devil take that idea. If she thought she could find a man of his abilities in every town house, she’d be sadly disappointed. The idea that she’d even entertain the notion made his gut churn. Not with jealousy. It was just bloody poor taste to talk about taking other lovers while his flesh was still embedded in hers.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

She rested her arms on his chest and pushed herself up. “You went completely stiff.”

“I assure you I’m not capable of that again so quickly.”

“I wasn’t talking about your member. Your whole body tensed.”

“It certainly did not.”

She looked at him as if he were a prize idiot. “Don’t deny it. I can still feel it.”

“Perhaps we’d better move. My leg’s starting to cramp.” Something was. It might as well be his leg.

She sat up and straightened her clothing. He turned his back to her, put his member back into his pants, and did up the buttons.

“I don’t know what should upset you. I only…” Her voice trailed off into a second or two of silence. “Yes, I do. What I said about haunting libraries.”

He turned back around. “Please, don’t put yourself out about it.”

“You’re angry because I said I’d look for other men.” Her face had that female expression of victory on it. When she won an argument and knew it. It curdled his stomach even further.

“You don’t want me with anyone else.”

“That would be preposterous for a man in my position, don’t you think?”

She laughed, making herself even more annoying. “The great Thomas Boulton, notorious rake, suddenly possessive of one woman.”

“Mrs. Trent, we had a bet, that’s all.”

“A bet you lost!”

He gritted his teeth. Could she be any more irritating? He should have recognized her as unacceptable from the first moment she made a smart remark. Granted, she was lovely, but her nature made her unsuitable for anything but the shortest distraction. Now, by losing her blasted challenge, he’d forced himself to entertain her company on at least one more occasion. And, to serve in her darkest sexual fantasy. He’d even thought that twist up himself.

“You’re adorable when you’re angry,” she said.

“I’m not angry!” Damn, snapping at her wouldn’t convince her. This whole situation had got itself tied into a knot. He was supposed to win the bet and have her at his mercy, not the other way around.

“Maybe you’d better take me home before you get any more not-angry at me.” Her eyes sparkled with glee.

“Perhaps I’d better.” He rose and stretched a hand down to help her up. She looked at it and then stood without assistance. Chuckling softly, she walked toward the phaeton, leaving him to clean up the remains of their picnic and everything else he’d mucked up.

Thomas arrived at the lady’s house at the time they’d agreed on. Two in the afternoon seemed an odd time for wicked fantasies, but perhaps she had plans for the evening. The less he dwelled on that possibility, the better.

She answered the door herself wearing a dressing gown. Knowing her, she might have nothing at all on underneath it.

“Does your staff see you that way all the time?” he asked.

She closed the door behind her. “Disagreeable already, Mr. Boulton?”

“I’m very sorry.”

“Your tone says you’re not.” She took his hat. “I gave everyone the afternoon off.”

At least, none of her servants could catch a glimpse of his humiliation. All night, he’d lay in bed imagining what she had in store for him. With her penchant for doing what she wished and taking no prisoners, he might expect anything. He had his honor. He paid his bets. He’d pay this one.

“This way.” She turned and led him into a formal drawing room. Quite opulent and furnished in the latest styles, but not the least bit scandalous.

She dropped his hat on a table and pointed to a settee. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

He sat and watched as she went to a sideboard and picked up a decanter. “Sherry?”

“I’d prefer whiskey, if you have it.”

“I do.” She poured for both of them and then joined him, finally handing him his drink. She lifted her own glass in a toast. “To good sports.”

They drank. He took rather too much of his liquor, and though it proved excellent, it burned going down.

She crossed her legs in a frankly provocative manner. Her slipper fell from her bare foot, and a naked ankle and lower calf appeared from under the hem of her gown. She proceeded to dip her toes under his pants and ease them up over his calf. No woman had ever acted so casual in her audacity toward him. The gesture tugged at a Puritanical streak he hadn’t known he had. Priapus loved it, though, and began to thicken.

He shifted in his seat. “Are you going to tell me what plans you’ve made for me today?”

She sipped at her sherry and studied him over the rim of her glass. “My plans center around myself. Remember, this is
my
fantasy.”

“I could hardly forget.” All sorts of possibilities had kept him awake for most of the night. Would she tie him up and torment his cock again? Perhaps, she’d add another man for her pleasure. A big, strapping fellow with large hands. One of her footmen, so he’d have to perform in front of a servant. On the other hand, what about a lady’s maid? She could order him to watch them
gamahuche
each other. Damn, his rod
really
liked that idea, and it grew as hard as steel in his pants. He tried moving again, but no matter what position he tried, he couldn’t find any comfort.

Her toes inched farther up his leg to the back of his knee. Who would have thought that spot could be so erotic?

“I want you to spank me,” she said.

He almost dropped his whiskey. Some of it did slosh down his front. “I beg your pardon.”

“That’s expensive Irish.” She glanced at the front of his pants. “Would you like me to lick it off you?”

“My good woman, don’t change the subject.” Blast it all, now he was sounding like a prude as well as feeling like one. “Did you say you wanted me to spank you?”

“Oh, good, you did understand.” She gave him a smile the cat might give the mouse before it pounced. “You never really know if American English translates.”

“I won’t do it.” No matter how splendid an idea Long Tom thought the image was.

“I won our bet. You have to give me my darkest fantasy.”

“I don’t hit women.”

She gave him a pout that wouldn’t convince the most gullible of men. “Even if I asked you to?”

“A man who uses violence against a woman is no gentleman.”

She leaned toward him and placed her palm on his pants, right over his cock. “But, you’re no more a gentleman than I am a lady.”

He ought to push her hand away, get up and declare this charade at an end, and leave. What could she do to him for not honoring their bet? She couldn’t disgrace him with the fact without making herself ridiculous. And yet, some deep, evil spot inside him wanted to turn her over his knee and swat his fingers against her bum until they both smarted. And, his cock surely enjoyed the firmness of her touch.

“I see you’re not immune to the idea,” she said.

“I’m not immune to anything about you.”

She bit her lip. “Well, then?”

“Why would you want me to hit you?”

“Not hit. Spank. Like a naughty child.” She moved her hand then, stroking the length of him. Up and down. Up and down.

He managed to hold in a groan of pleasure. “Why would you want to be spanked?”

“I want to surrender control. I’m tired of always taking charge, having responsibility, issuing orders. I only just realized this is why I came to England—a place where I don’t own anything but can be a simple woman with needs and desires.”

“You’re anything but simple, Mrs. Trent.” He gritted his teeth and fought to control his rapidly escalating response to her touch.

“You’re considering it,” she said. “I can read it in your face.”

“This must never get out.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone I know to see this side of me.”

“If I do it, I’ll want to fuck you afterward.”

The smile this time was sincere, even eager. “I’ll want that, too. Very much.”

“All right, then, but you’ll have to tell me how to do it.”

“Pretend I’ve done something wicked and you’re angry.”

“You’ve been a bad girl, and I’m very cross.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, is that the best you can do?” she demanded.

“I’m not used to playacting.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She rose, walked to the table and picked up a vase. “What if I were to break this?”

“It looks expensive.”

“It is, and I’ve only rented this house.” She hurled it against the fireplace where it crashed into dozens of pieces that fell to the floor with a clatter. “Not enough?”

“This whole thing is preposterous.”

She picked up his hat, tossed it onto the floor, and crushed it with her feet. “Was that expensive, too?”

“Devilishly.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at her. “Very well, Olivia, I’ll teach you to destroy other people’s possessions. You walk straight to me and bend over my knee.”

Her cheeks turned a deep pink, and she bit her lip again. Harder this time, as if she’d like to draw blood. The action made him want to brush his tongue over the spot to soothe it. This session wasn’t about soothing her, though.

“I’m waiting,” he said in the sternest tone he could muster with his erect member throbbing in his pants.

She approached him slowly until she stood no more than an inch away. Still glowering, although his heart pounded in his chest, he put his hands at her waist and guided her down until she rested across his lap, her face pointed to the floor.

“This is for your own good,” he declared as he lifted the skirt of her dressing gown. Dear God Almighty, she wore nothing underneath, and the two most sweetly rounded buttocks he’d ever seen lay exposed to his gaze. And, his hands.

This time, he did moan. Only a stone could have remained unmoved by the sight of flesh as smooth and as rich as strawberries and cream.

“Please don’t hit me,” she cried, in a breathless tone that told of her own excitement. She wiggled her arse in invitation. “I’ll behave myself.”

“You need to learn your lesson.” He raised his hand, palm flat, and brought it down against her skin. It made a solid smacking sound, so he did it again on the other side.

“Oh!” she said, as moisture seeped out of her onto the leg of his trousers. He parted her legs and found her pussy. Already, the hairs there gleamed wet.

“Please,” she said. “I’ll be good.”

He swatted her again, first on one cheek, then the other. And again and again. Her skin glowed pink, and the scent of her mounting passion tickled at his nostrils. By now, his cock would have taken on the ruddy hue of a man about to lose control. What a delight it would be to watch it disappear into the folds of her sex while her buttocks still had this blush on them.

He smacked her a few more times until she squirmed. The action pressed her hip against his rod. Enough of that, and he’d spend in his pants.

“Hold still,” he ordered. “No matter what I do, you must hold still.”

“But, I can’t.” She whimpered. “Why must you be so cruel?”

“Don’t move an inch.” He parted the petals of her sex and slid two fingers inside her. She groaned as her muscles closed around him, gripping him tightly. She’d gone past wet, and her cunny dripped its nectar into his hand. After pulling out of her, he teased her pearl into full distention. She whimpered, and her hips jerked.

He slapped her a few more times. “I told you not to move.”

“Can’t stop,” she gasped. “Help me. I’m dying.”

“Do you want me inside you?” Lord, just saying it almost undid him.

“Yes. Please. Now.”

Some devil in the back of his mind found enough sanity to realize what he’d done. He’d made her beg, just as he’d begged the day before. What delicious revenge.

He shoved his fingers back into her, as deep as they could reach. “Is this what you want?”

“No, you,” she shouted. “All of you.”

“Will you die without it?”

“Yes. Hurry.”

Once more, he removed his fingers and hit her smartly. “Beg.”

“Yes, I’m begging.”

“Louder!”

“Please,” she shouted. “I beg of you. End this torture.”

He stood pulling her up with him. Half guiding, half carrying, he led her to the table and bent her over it. After lifting her gown again, he fumbled with his fly. Finally, his cock sprang free. He parted her nether lips and eased the tip into her heat.

“Hurry,” she wailed. “I need it all!”

He gave her another pair of blows and watched as the living image of his hand appeared on her cheeks. He’d long passed the point where he could enter her slowly, though. Instead, he grasped her hips and embedded himself inside her with one movement.

Her cries grew louder. The signal that she’d reached the pinnacle. He bent and put his arm around her so that he could stroke her pearl as she came. She shrieked as her inner muscles clamped around him and then burst into spasms along the length of his cock.