Mastered Under the Mistletoe

by Alyson Chase

  He pressed his lips to her temple. “I do respect your opinions but I don’t know what you expect from me. I can’t let you face danger, not if I can prevent it.”

  She smiled. “I don’t expect you to take me on your missions.” She might sometimes want it, but she knew that was too much to ask from her protective husband. “I simply want you to treat me as though I am an intelligent adult, not a child to be seen and not heard. Someone capable of listening to your problems and giving advice.”

  He skimmed his palm down her neck, under her scarf, and rested it over her heart. The heat and pressure of his hand was strong, reassuring, and warmed her straight through. “That I can do,” he said.

  She tucked herself into his chest and sighed. These were the moments she lived for. She should have raised her concerns to Marcus the first moment she felt him pulling away, not let it fester. Not let her desire to prove herself overcome her good sense.

  “It was foolish of me to attempt to spy on the smugglers,” she admitted. “If they hadn’t been basically good men, the night could have ended much differently.”

  “My love.” Marcus tipped her chin up, a small smile dancing around his lips. “I’m glad you understand the imprudence of your actions this night. But because you acknowledge your error, it doesn’t mean I can let your behavior go unpunished.”

  Gooseflesh rose on her skin. She adored hearing how he felt about her from his own lips, but when he showed it...

  She thought about acting coy. There were nights when they both enjoyed her resistance. Tonight, though, she wanted nothing between them, not even playful artifice.

  “Yes, Marcus.” Slowly, she slid her scarf off and tossed it to the settee before sitting down upon it. “I am sorry I deceived you. I should have spoken of my concerns with you sooner.” She removed her boots and flexed her feet. “And not frozen my toes in the snow.”

  Marcus drew her up and turned her around to face the fire. He flicked open the top button to her dress. “Perhaps you didn’t speak because you thought I would not listen. Or perhaps it was so we would arrive at this point.” Another button disappeared, another. Air brushed her nape a moment before he pressed a kiss to the exposed patch of skin.

  “Yesss.” Liz leaned back into him. Her husband liked to control his surroundings, was ruled by discipline and order. He had the same exacting standards for those around him. And when it came to Liz, he took enforcing the consequences for her actions to a personal level. He called them punishments, but they both knew better. No punishment could feel so tantalizing. Every chastisement only brought them closer.

  He pushed her dress down her body. When he rose, he skimmed his fingers up her thighs, hooking them under her shift and pulling it up over her head. She was left bare save for her stockings.

  “Do you want me on the bed or over the settee?” She liked both positions. With her burgeoning abdomen, his lap had become awkward. Which was one of the many reasons she was eager to have her child. She missed the feeling of being draped over his hard thighs.

  “Neither.” Silk whispered over wool. Marcus slid his cravat off his neck. “Hold out your hands.”

  Liz raised them in front of her.

  He wound the silk around her wrists then turned for the bed, tugging her behind him. He stopped at the mattress and lifted the free ends of the cravat to the canopy. He pushed aside the tester and tied the ends of the silk about the wood frame.

  Liz’s arms stretched upward. The fronts of her thighs pressed against the bed. A trickle of anticipation skipped through her veins.

  “Are you chilled?” Marcus flattened his hand and ran it down her spine.

  She arched into his touch. “No.”

  His caress drifted lower. He rubbed the plump flesh of her rear, raising blood to the surface. “Do you feel any discomfort?”

  Liz flexed her hands. “No.”

  “Good.” Marcus smoothed his left hand around her hip and up over her ribs to cup her breast. He circled his thumb around her nipple and moved in close behind her. The wool of his trousers scratched against her skin.

  Liz wriggled against him, and he bit her lightly at the spot where her neck met her shoulder. She panted, her skin growing damp as the temperature of the room seemed to soar.

  Marcus cupped her sex with his right hand as he toyed with her breast with his left.

  A bead of sweat rolled down between her collarbone. Perhaps it wasn’t the room. Perhaps it was all Marcus and his talented hands.

  He traced his finger around her clit. “Not cold. No discomfort. How about needy? Do you ache for me, Liz?”

  She rocked her hips into his hand. The pressure at her wrists grew as her body began to dissolve. Her legs didn’t want to hold her upright. “Yes. Please, Marcus.”

  “Let’s see, shall we?” He shifted, and his cock pressed against her lower back. He trailed his fingers through her tight curls.

  She widened her stance, eager.

  He didn’t make her wait. Dragging his fingertip through her slit, he found her opening. He pressed into her. “Mmm.” His chest rumbled against her back. “So damn needy.”

  “Marcus …” Her nipples drew into stiff points, and he scraped his thumbnail over a hardened nub.

  Without warning, he stepped back, and Liz wanted to cry out from the loss. But she knew better. Knew that if she was patient her reward would be worth the wait.

  She exhaled a long, steady breath. Closing her eyes, she focused her mind on her remaining senses.

  The lingering scent of her perfume teased her nose, along with a hint of leather. The sound of a wardrobe door opening met her ear.

  Liz curled her toes into the soft rug. Marcus kept many interesting things in that wardrobe.

  Although his feet were silent, she sensed when he came to stand behind her. The air grew thick between them, heavy with anticipation.

  The whisper in the air was her only warning. The sting across her arse more intense than she’d expected.

  She gasped. The stripe of pain was already transforming into delicious heat when she peeked over her shoulder. Marcus stood several feet behind her. He’d removed his jacket and shirt, leaving his glorious chest bare. His black trousers were molded to his hips, his large erection pressing against the falls. He tapped the leather tongue of a crop against the shaft of his right boot and raised one eyebrow.

  “Eyes forward.” His voice had taken on that tenor, the one that turned her knees to jelly and made her nipples tingle. “Did you really think for so egregious an infraction a simple spanking would do?”

  She turned her head and pressed her eyes closed. She hadn’t really thought upon it. That was the delight of a spanking; she didn’t have to think. Her mind went blissfully blank for those few precious moments, where all she had to do was feel.

  “You disobeyed my wishes.” Another lick of heat stung her left cheek. “Put yourself and our child at risk, from the biting cold if not from a rogue band of smugglers.” Two lashes came in quick succession.

  Liz whimpered. All the distress of the day rose to the surface. Her hurt with Marcus’s dismissal, her anger at the thief, the fear that had spiked into her heart when she and Peggy had been caught on the cliff. It all became too much.

  She pulled at her bonds. The silk at her wrists began to chafe. Her arse felt like it was on fire. And still she wanted more. Wanted Marcus’s firm hand controlling her body, directing her responses, until she felt like crawling out of her own skin. She needed him to break her open, let the flood of emotions burst forth and ebb away.

  Marcus stepped forward and rubbed her throbbing flesh until it dulled to a pleasant ache. He placed the tongue of the crop on the back of her knee and leisurely traced a path up her inner thigh. “Six more lashes, Liz. Count them out for me.”

  “Marcus, please.” Was she asking for more of the whipping or for him to release her and take her until she screamed? Her body didn’t know. It only knew it needed.

  He slipped the shaft of the crop betw
een her legs and rubbed the soft leather over her clit.

  Liz whimpered.

  He flicked his wrist and slapped the tongue on her nub, the nip of pain exquisite. “Six.” He drew back, his breathing heavy, proof that she wasn’t the only one affected.

  The crop hissed through the air, and a line of fire flared across her rear end.

  “One,” she whispered.

  Two quick strikes, and Liz was digging her fingernails into her palms hard enough to leave marks.

  “Two, three.” Liz squeezed her thighs together. This was sweet torment. Only Marcus could drive her mad like this.

  Her back arched as the forth blow struck her upper thighs.

  She moaned. “Four.”

  “Will you go traipsing about unprotected at night again?” Marcus stepped close, caressing her burning skin.

  “No, never.” She pressed back into his palm. She never wanted to leave his side. “Please, Marcus.”

  He placed a wet kiss on her shoulder, his devilish lips curving against her skin. “All right, my sweet.” His body heat disappeared.

  The last two blows came quickly. Her ‘five’ and ‘six’ were bare whispers. Her whole body shook, the canopy above her creaking.

  Marcus gathered her in his arms as he worked the knot off her wrists.

  Liz turned her face and burrowed it in his throat. She inhaled deeply, drinking in his familiar scents of leather and bay rum. Marcus always smelled like home.

  He laid her on her side on top of the coverlet. With deft fingers, he untied the ribbons that held up her stockings and eased the garments down her legs. When she was completely bare, he shucked his boots and trousers. He revealed every inch of his own skin, burnished golden in the firelight.

  Her breath caught when her husband stood naked before her. He was truly magnificent. The first hints of silver teased his temples, and Liz expected the arrival of their child would bring more. But the hint of age suited him, only made her duke that much more distinguished.

  She reached out, and he slipped his hand inside hers as he crawled onto the bed. He brought their joined hands to his chest and squeezed. “My love, don’t frighten me so again,” he whispered.

  “Never again.” She tucked her knees up to her belly as Marcus settled behind her.

  He dug the fingers of one hand into her hip, the other above her right knee. The head of his cock prodded her entrance before slipping inside. Slowly, he pressed forward.

  Marcus dropped his head back. “My God, you feel so tight like this.”

  Liz gripped the pillow beneath her head. Yes, this had become one of her favorite positions since their child had made its presence known.

  Marcus swept his hand up her side and palmed her breast. He bent low and placed his mouth over her nipple. He lashed her with his tongue while he plunged deep, the dual sensations driving her mad.

  He raised his other hand and brought it down hard on her sensitive bum.

  Liz shuddered. With her on her side and Marcus behind her, he had access to every part of her that mattered. She arched her spine, meeting him thrust for thrust, loving the way his skin slapped against hers. The muscles in her core twitched.

  Marcus reared up, scraping his fingers along her arse, and the heat from his punishment merged with the heat blossoming in her sex. He pressed forward, holding himself tight to her pelvis. He caressed her face before drawing his hand down to rest at the base of her throat. He gazed down at her, his eyes glistening. “You’re everything to me, Liz. My life. My heart.”

  Liz barely felt the bed beneath her. Her body felt weightless. “I love you, too. With everything I am.” She loved him more than she’d thought possible.

  A tiny hole opened in her heart. She wasn’t going to discover his thief this Christmas. It had seemed like such a better gift than the scarf she’d knitted.

  He lowered his hand to her rounded belly. And as though he’d read her mind, he said, “You’ve given me everything. A love most men could only dream of and now a babe, to carry on our line. This is my best Christmas ever.”

  She laced her fingers through his. She thought of next year’s Christmas, when their child would have arrived to share in the joy. And the one after that, where a brother or sister might add to the merriment. Her throat clogged with emotion. “Each one will only get better.”

  For them. She chewed on her bottom lip. How many lives would be hurt because Marcus’s key had gone missing? It didn’t seem fair that her life was so wondrous while other lives were destroyed with intrigue and deceit.

  Marcus sighed and shook his head. “I can see that you are still thinking about my missing key.” He tutted. “I must be doing something wrong if worry touches you here in bed.”

  She blew out a breath. “Marcus, you know that you are most talented in your marital duties, but I do feel that you have a misconception about women. We do not become mindless puddles of jelly simply from being bedded.” She considered those talents of her husband. “Or if we do, the effects do not last o’er long.”

  He bent over her and pressed his nose to hers. “Is that so?”

  She darted her tongue out and licked the plump part of his lip. “Our current conversation seems proof enough.”

  His smile turned wolfish. “Challenge accepted.” Rearing up, he scooped one arm under her legs and shifted her higher.

  Liz dug her fingers into the pillow. With the new angle, she felt full to bursting. Marcus eased back, his flesh sliding against her every nerve ending. He paused, only the crown notched in her sheath. Staring down at their connection, his chest heaved. Nostrils flaring, he slammed back home.

  Liz moaned. She didn’t know which felt better; the actual penetration or the smack of Marcus’s pelvis against her bottom. Marcus pulled back and repeated the action. Liz’s need wound tighter and tighter with each thrust and slap.

  Needing more, but having no control over Marcus’s pace, Liz squeezed her thighs together.

  Marcus groaned and pounded into her so hard she swore she felt him in her womb.

  A languid smile danced around the edges of her lips. It looked like she did have some control after all.

  Her muscles coiled tight. Her breathing grew short, choppy. She pulled the pillow to her mouth and bit into the silk.

  She was close. She reached for her crisis, her body climbing nearer and nearer but never seeming to reach the peak.

  “Marcus …” The backs of her eyes burned with unmet need.

  His middle finger slid along the crease of her arse. He circled her tight rim, making her suck in a gasp.

  “That’s it, my love.” He dipped his finger inside, pressing past her ring of muscles. The new sensation made her mind go white. Nothing mattered but that moment. Nothing but the pleasure Marcus gave and took in return. He matched the plunge of his finger with the drive of his hips. “Take it. Take everything.”

  Her vision blurred, everything inside of her narrowing until Liz squeezed her eyes shut and let her mind float along with her body. Lights sparkled behind her lids a moment before her body exploded in sharp pulses of pleasure. Wave after wave crashed upon her, like a storm breaking against the cliffs.

  She buried her face in the pillow and screamed. Fine tremors coursed through her body until at last she sagged into the mattress.

  Marcus smoothed his hand up her belly, over her chest and throat, to cup her cheek. He tilted her face up. “Beautiful.”

  Liz turned her head and sucked the tip of his thumb into her mouth.

  He narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. Chasing his own release, every muscle in his body tensed until he seemed carved from marble. He closed his eyes a moment before his mouth dropped open on a long groan. He spent deep inside of her, grinding his hips into her arse, eking out every ounce of pleasure.

  He slumped, his thumb slipping through her teeth as he planted his palms into the mattress on either side of her head. He breathed heavily, and beads of sweat glistened on his shoulders.

  Liz wrapped her a
rms around his back and drew him to lay down beside her.

  Throwing a leg over her thigh, he held her close. His heart beat slowed against her chest.

  Liz snuggled into his heat. Wrapped in his arms, she knew there was no place else she’d rather be.

  “Any thoughts on my key?”

  “Hmmm?” Liz struggled against the fog drifting through her brain, trying to focus on his words.

  Marcus laughed, his chest rumbling against hers. “And you thought I couldn’t make you mindless.”

  Liz wanted to frown, but her muscles wouldn’t cooperate. He’d been right. A touch from Marcus could make her forget everything but him.

  She yawned and burrowed closer.

  Marcus reached across her and drew the coverlet over their bodies. He slid his hand under the fabric and patted her bottom. “Silly wife,” he murmured. “Meeting with smugglers.”

  Liz scratched her fingers through his chest hair. “They were really quite sweet. Offered me whiskey. Sold me silk at cost.”

  “Whiskey!?”

  “To keep me warm.” Her jaw cracked with her second yawn. “I refrained, of course.”

  “Of course,” he said dryly.

  “Nalley did mention something interesting.”

  “What was that?” Marcus brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

  “That you are a frequent customer at his tavern.” She blinked up at him, frowning.

  One side of his mouth crooked up. “Only for business meetings, darling. I wouldn’t want to meet with any bounders, as you call them, here at Hartsworth. Besides, his liquor is third-rate. I prefer to drink at home.”

  She poked him in the chest. “Only because of the quality of spirits?”

  “The quality of the company is far superior here, as well.” He gave her bum another soft pat.

  That was better. She burrowed closer. Sleep tugged at her eyes and she let them ease closed. “Oh, and Marcus? Nalley will be by on the morrow. I didn’t have any coin on me and told him to ask you for payment.”

  “Oh, I will take care of Nalley tomorrow, have no doubt.”