Read Pleasing the Colonel Online
Authors: Renee Rose
Pleasing the Colonel (15 page)
Excerpt
She was smart. She didn't struggle with him, surely knowing that she couldn't win any battle of strength, but her eyes darted around as if she were measuring her escape routes. She took in where the horses were tied and where the men were gathered. He could practically feel her making her plans to get away.
He took off his sword belt and slipped the scabbards from it as he sat down on the stool with an arm around her waist. She was exquisitely beautiful. Her coloring was very light—clearly she was of Viking, Saxon, or Angle blood. It was said the Angles had been so named because they looked like angels. If that were true, she was surely Angle-born because he'd never seen anyone who looked so lovely. Her hair was a pale blond and her skin was light. She had wide-set blue eyes that were angled down at the out corners, giving her an innocent look, with lashes that were so pale they were almost invisible.
He'd seen no smile from her since they arrived, although he'd seen a fake-looking one when she was trolling for men back at the tavern in London. He had a feeling the pinched, serious look to her face was a habitual expression for her. He had a strong desire to discover just what would ease that worry for her—to protect her from the life that had obviously given her hardship.
“Let's get your punishment over with, shall we?” he asked. She was already breathing quickly in anticipation of the spanking. He pulled her gently across his lap and dragged her skirts up over her legs to bare her pert little bottom. She squeezed her cheeks together when the air hit them. He rested his hand on the soft orbs.
He tried to remember whether he'd ever whipped a woman before. The way his cock had gone rock hard made him doubt it. He would surely have remembered such an experience. He doubled the sword belt and cracked it down on her bottom with about a quarter of his strength. She jerked in response, but made no sound. He continued, giving her a few seconds between each stroke to recover before delivering the next one, watching the way the her skin turned from cream, to a light rosy blush, to a deeper crimson as the lines of the belt started to stand up in puffed striation. She still hadn't made a sound, but she wriggled plenty, which did not help alleviate his intense arousal for her. He ended the whipping with five much harder strokes—his foster father had always done it that way, to show how much worse it could have been. They got a sound out of her—she cried out with each one, her voice starting to take on the sounds of sobbing by the last one. He lifted her to stand in front of him and rubbed her hot cheeks. Her skirts were still up, so he was caressing her bare bottom and he suddenly realized how perfectly improper it was. He jerked his hands away and allowed the skirts to fall down to her ankles.
She had tears glinting on her lashes and her chin quivered, but surprisingly, she didn't look angry with him, which confirmed his impressed that life had been hard for her—as if she'd come to expect pain and humiliation. She lowered slowly to kneel between his knees and stunned him by reaching to free his erection from his leggings. “You don't have to do that,” he choked, but her mouth was already opening, and the part of him that desperately wanted her mouth on his cock overruled the part of him that felt it was wrong.
“You want it,” she murmured, and he gasped at the feeling of cold air on his moistened cock.
He let his head fall back and forced himself to breathe. “Aye,” he grunted, knowing full well he was being played by her, and not caring in the slightest. She tightened her lips and rubbed up and down just over the head of his penis several times, then opened her mouth wider and took as much of his length as she was able. His cock jerked in happy response to her attentions and he groaned. She sucked hard on the outstrokes, using her fingers to massage his ball sac and the fleshy area behind it. Though he'd just had a whore several hours ago in London, he felt like a young man who'd never been touched by a woman before. It took her no time at all to bring him to the brink of ecstasy and he warned her before he spilled his seed, but she kept him into her mouth, swallowed, then sat back on her haunches and studied him, still without a smile.
He stroked her head, then buried his fingers in her hair. It was starting to come free of its braid, and he worked to unwind it, the silky waves spreading over her shoulders like a mantle. “You didn't have to do that,” he said hoarsely.
She shrugged. “I chose to. And you wanted it.”
He shook his head. “Aye, but not like that.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?” she said, standing from her crouch.
“I mean, I would want it to be freely offered, not given by a woman I've captured and beaten, who has no other options but to suck my cock.”
He'd always had a habit of saying the exact wrong thing to a woman. This was no exception. A look of pure fury darkened her face and her fist swung in an arc and hit him in the mouth. He allowed the blow to fall, partly because he figured he must deserve it, and partly because he thought it was amusing that she would try to hit him.
She packed more force than he would have guessed was possible for such a little thing. His lip split and blood ran down his chin. Her eyes widened when she saw the blood and a look of panic crossed her face. He snatched her up quickly because she looked like she was about to bolt. She thrashed around as he held her by the waist and he considered whether he ought to spank her again. He didn't want to. He sat back down on the stool and pulled her onto his lap, holding her tightly until she stopped struggling.
“I'm hopeless with women,” he admitted, hoping to soften her with his own humility. “I always say the wrong thing.”
He felt all the fight go out of her. She twisted to look at him.
“How did that offend you?”
She frowned and looked for a moment as though she wanted to hit him again, but seemed to reconsider. She pressed her lips together and looked away.
“No. You can't hit me and then give me the silent treatment.” He took her little jaw in his hand and turned her face back to him with his eyebrows raised in a warning.
She flushed a little and her shoulders sagged. She looked at him sullenly for another long moment before she said, “I meant that not as a bargaining tool—I gave it freely.” She shrugged. “To repay you for your gentleness with me.”
His heart lurched at that.
Gentleness?
He couldn't recall any woman who had ever found him gentle. He had always been Ferrum the Giant, the rough, ugly ogre who terrified women with his scars, his size, and his lack of finesse. He swallowed and stroked the hair back from her face. “I apologize. I meant you no offense. I just don't want you to—never mind. I'll shut it before I offend you again.”
At that, she smiled, reluctantly. It was the first genuine smile he'd seen on her and it confirmed that she was truly an angel from heaven. There was a dimple on one cheek, her teeth were white and straight, and the warmth that came into her face transformed it. She wiped the blood from his chin with her thumb, rubbing it on his tunic and then licking her thumb to wipe off the blood that had dried. Apparently dissatisfied, she leaned forward, her little pink tongue starting to extend.
God's teeth.
His breath hitched as she met his face with her tongue, actually licking his cut clean like a cat. He groaned and his hands tightened on her, the need he had just spent returning anew.
“You're not going to set me free, are you, Sir Ferrum?”
He shook his head to clear it and blinked at her. “It's not for me to decide,” he answered honestly, though he knew the answer was no. She studied him and he could see the intelligence in her eyes. She said nothing but he was almost certain she was making her plans for escape.
“Do you need to relieve yourself before bed?” he asked.
“Aye,” she said, standing up. He led her out of the tent to the trees to take care of the necessities. Back in the tent he wrapped a bit of linen around her wrists before binding them with the rough rope. Then he bound one of his own wrists to hers, so that if she tried to work them free in the night he would feel it. He led her to his bedroll and lay down, pulling her down as he lowered himself. They lay facing one another, their bound hands between them. He watched her eye the bonds.
“Forget about escaping, little flower. You won't get away and if you try it, the whipping I give you will be so much worse than the one you I gave you tonight.”
Her jaw set at that, which confirmed his suspicions. He was going to have to keep a very close eye on her.
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Celia Dante is notorious for her headstrong ways and getting into mischief. This time, she's out to seduce Tomi, her brother-in-law's handsome steward and the man she cut her teeth flirting with as a young girl. But in addition to losing her virginity to the rakish Duke of Tuscany, her colorful past includes joining her twin sister and brother-in-law in their bed, a fact which Tomi has a hard time
swallowing.
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Renee Rose Links
You can find author interviews, excerpts of upcoming books, and general thoughts from Renee Rose via her blog, her Facebook and Twitter pages, and her Goodreads profile, using the following links:
http://www.reneeroseromance.com
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Table of Contents
The Knight’s Prisoner (Coming Soon from Renee Rose)
Table of Contents