The Taming of a Vixen

by Wendy Stone

  “I’d be delighted.” He bowed over her hand, smiling when he saw her blush as his lips touched her knuckles once more. “I shall leave you here, then, my lady. Enjoy your evening.” He turned upon his heels, heading out the way they had come.

  He was soon in his coach, unwilling to watch as any more lovesick swains mooned over Alyssa while she sat in their midst. She was so close but so completely separated from him. Intent separated them, for it was his intent to bed her again, and again if necessary, until she was no longer so constantly in his thoughts and dreams.

  He thought of stopping to see Abigail, something he’d been putting off for over a week now, sending one excuse after another when she would send around an invitation. He didn’t want her; he didn’t want any woman any more. He wanted Alyssa.

  She’d worn white tonight, the color of innocence and purity. But on her, the color had been more ethereal, her hair a bonfire of thick curls left to spiral down her back from the crown of her head. The curves of her body left him aching to touch her. The skin she left bare had seemed so soft, calling his hands to touch as he had once before, that night in the storm.

  With a sigh, he realized he was at his house. He jumped lithely down from the coach, waving away the coachman and hurrying up to the door. His butler greeted him, handing him a note that had arrived while he was gone. He took it with a sigh, certain of its origin. Abigail was once more demanding his presence.

  “Have my stallion brought around,” he told his butler. He’d put this off long enough. He had to make the break. “Let me know when he’s ready. I’ll be in my room.”

  Going upstairs, he stripped out of his coat, flipping loose the intricate knot of his cravat and slipping it off. He would go to visit, but he would be comfortable doing it. Grabbing the same scuffed black coat he’d worn the other night, he slid it over his white shirt, buttoning it before sitting down to change from his dress shoes with their wide gold buckles to well-polished riding boots. They shone, his face clearly seen in the reflection.

  When the knock came at his door, he was sitting in a chair in front of the fire, staring into the flames, seeing her face. She had to be some kind of witch; she had him under a spell, a spell he was unable to break. Perhaps it would just take time; perhaps he just needed to see her again. Perhaps if he made love to her again, he would find that those intense and all encompassing feelings she had aroused were nothing more than a fluke. Yes, and perhaps if he tried really hard, he could grow feathers and fly to the moon.

  Jason rose, going to a small drawer in his writing desk retrieving the black scarf mask. He tucked it in the pocket of his coat and then turned and left the room.

  The ride to Abigail’s was made with little noise but the sound of his horse’s hooves on the hard-packed ground. He listened to the insects buzzing and chirping in the grass and trees. The scent of spring was in the air, even though it had grown cooler. Jason delivered his horse to the small stable that was located at the back of the house, leaving the stable boy with a coin and the instructions to keep him saddled; he wouldn’t be here long.

  He walked around the corner of the house and opened the door.

  A giggle came from the drawing room, and then another; his eyebrow quirked at the sound. The rumble of a man’s voice, deep timbered, reached his ears and he followed the sound.

  * * * *

  Abigail was in heaven. She’d been lonely for so long, tired of sleeping alone and of being trapped in this house, the prisoner of her own way of life. Now she was naked but for the frilly corset she wore that pushed up her full breasts, leaving her nipples to peep out from the strands of her blonde hair.

  Between her legs, was the son of the man who’d started her on this road, his cock pumping avidly into her wet pink cunt. His hands were on her hips, his fingers digging into the plump curve, pulling her down on him with every thrust.

  This wasn’t their first time coupling this night, nor their second. The wonders of youth, she thought, feeling another of the many orgasms he’d given her starting in the core of her being, a core that was being plundered well and handily by the young man.

  He wasn’t Jason. He didn’t have the finesse or the sensitivity of her protector. But, oh God, could he fuck.

  She fell backwards as young Jack pushed her off of him, laughing when he grabbed her hips and tipped her onto her face, plunging into her from behind like a stallion riding his mare. His big hand slapped down on her soft, rounded bottom, urging her to move for him as he started a punishing rhythm. She was climaxing in seconds.

  * * * *

  Jason stood and watched the young man. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen, for his chest had yet to fill out and his arms were still slightly on the scrawny side. He had a good technique, Jason thought, watching as he spanked Abigail until she moved the way he wished, hearing his mistress whine and squeal her pleasure loudly.

  He could have interrupted their play, barged in like the wronged lover, but instead, he stood and watched, waiting until they were finished. A chuckle almost escaped him as the youngster leaned over Abby, grabbing a hold of her large breasts and squeezing them as if he were milking a cow. He held them tightly, pulling her back against him by the soft handfuls. His face, or what Jason could see of it, was tight and his grunts were loud and boisterous.

  And then the youth’s pale buttocks jerked and twitched, his head falling back as he came inside Abigail’s sweet quim. As soon as he stopped twitching, Jason stepped forward, applauding. “Bravo, young man. That was a very nice show.”

  “Jason!” Abigail’s expression was priceless and one Jason would remember for a long time. She was shocked, appalled and embarrassed. Her young friend on the other hand, smiled lazily back at Jason, slowly pulling his still semi-hard cock from the heat of Abigail’s pretty pink cunt. A string of pearly white spunk hung between the two, as if connecting them.

  At least until Abigail moved, grabbing her gown and holding it to her breast as she tried to stand. The boy’s smile grew when he saw her stumble before standing unsteadily on legs that shook. “What are you doing here?” she gasped.

  “I do believe this is my house,” Jason said, folding his arms over his chest. “And the last time I checked, you were my mistress. Did that change?”

  He saw the stony look that crept upon her face, watched as her chin tipped up proudly, even though her lips still trembled. “I wasn’t sure of my position, Jason. I haven’t seen you in so long.”

  Jason smiled, knowing that she would play that card. “And is that any reason for bring this boy into my house?”

  “I was lonely.”

  “Hmm, yes, it seems that this young man has taken very good care of your ‘loneliness’ now.”

  “Well, if you had come to see me, I wouldn’t have been bored and lonely.” Abigail stepped forward, her blue eyes flashing, her posture stiff with rage.

  “Then I guess we shall have to make sure that doesn’t happen again, won’t we?” Jason answered her mildly, watching as her eyes narrowed, knowing she was trying to decide what he meant by that comment.

  “I doubt that this young man has the quid to afford you, especially not in the way you expect. But I shall be generous. You may keep this house and the coach and four. I shall pay the staff until the end of the month and you may keep the money I put in the household account for you. But after that, I am done.” Jason bowed slightly, before turning on his heel to walk out of the room.

  He heard Abigail scurry after him, trying desperately to throw her gown over her head and catch him at the same time. With a sigh, knowing it was going to be messy, he waited at the wide doorway. “Yes?” he asked her quietly.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked him, her voice plaintive. Her hands grabbed his arm, her fingers like tiny vices that pinched through the thick fabric of his coat.

  “It is time, Abigail. You were a terrific mistress, but the bloom is off the rose. It is better this way, for now, you shall have your own home.”

 
“But I love you,” she said, big tears growing in her pretty blue eyes, one sliding down her cheek as she put on a maudlin mien.

  Jason tried not to laugh but he felt so relieved that the whole affair had ended, he had problems hiding his joy. “Abigail, you don’t love me, you love the idea of not having to spread your legs for an assortment of men. I have given you a house as a parting gift. What more could you want?”

  “I wanted to be your wife,” she said, rubbing her breasts against his arm and looking up at him from under her lashes.

  He burst out laughing, he couldn’t help it. “I would expect my duchess to be faithful, Abigail. You couldn’t be faithful for a week before you were spreading your…ahem…favors to other men. I’m sorry, my dear. But our association is at an end. I shall send around the title of the house tomorrow.” He pulled her fingers off his arm, stepping away quickly. “Goodnight, and goodbye,” he said, opening the front door and slipping through it as he heard her sobs start.

  Before the door closed, he heard the young man from the drawing room. “Buck up, Abigail. If you’re a good girl, perhaps I can be talked into marrying you.”

  Jason was so relieved the scene he’d expected had been avoided that he almost danced around the corner of the house and back to where the stable boy was brushing out his horse’s mane. He flipped a coin that sent the boy stuttering his thanks and took the reins, mounting easily and turning the horse’s head towards Alyssa’s lush estate.

  Luck was with him this night, for he made the trip easily, seeing no one. More importantly, with no one seeing him. Even inside the gardens of the house, there was no one in evidence. He slipped off his horse, walking to where the balcony hung, just above his head. Jumping, he managed to grab it, grunting softly as he lifted himself using the strength of his arms alone. Swinging his leg over the railing, he stared at the dark windows that were Alyssa’s.

  He stopped just long enough to tie on the mask, sneaking over to lift the latch on the door, praying that it wouldn’t be locked against him. With an almost silent click, it opened, sliding inward on whisper-soft hinges.

  Just as quietly, he slipped the door closed, then turned, letting his eyes get used to the darkened room. He heard the sound of breathing, slow and deep, coming from the shadowed shape of the bed and wished he could take the chance to light a candle, but he didn’t dare. Instead, he slowly tiptoed across the floor, coming to stand next to it. Looking down, he saw a length of dark hair, a pale arm lying limply against the dark foil of the comforter.

  As his eyes grew more accustomed to the lack of light, she came into focus. She was beautiful in her sleep, soft and fragile, her lips barely parted. It was Sleeping Beauty, so exquisite as to take his breath away.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, the creamy skin touched with the blush of sleep, her lush lips pink and moist, the rise and fall of her curved breast under the thin sheet. With little thought, he settled his weight on the edge of the bed, his hand coming out to touch her cheek.

  “Alyssa?”

  Chapter Seven

  Alyssa woke slowly, aware of her name being softly called. She stretched, her foot catching in the sheet covering her and inching it down as she arched her back. A hand brushed her cheek, a warm palm cupping it gently and she smiled, blinking sleepily.

  Then she opened her mouth to scream.

  “No, Alyssa, it’s me, Jamie,” Jason said quickly, clamping his hand over her mouth before she could do much more than squeak. “Don’t scream.”

  She pulled her head away from his hand, tossing her red hair over her shoulders and out of her face. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t?” she snarled, angry because of the fear he’d caused her.

  “Because you’ve missed me,” Jason said simply, smiling at her.

  She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him before shaking her head in disbelief at his daring. “How did you get in here?”

  “The same way you did that night. I climbed the balcony.” Jason reached out, pulling a strand of hair from her forehead and tucking it behind her ear with a proprietary manner that wasn’t lost on Alyssa.

  “But my father has guards that are supposed to patrol the grounds. They didn’t stop you?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I? I didn’t see anyone when I rode through the gardens.” His eyes, now much more used to the dark, roamed freely over her form, smiling when he recognized what she wore to bed. “Besides, I needed to come back for my shirt.”

  Alyssa blushed, pulling the garment up around her neck. “It is comfortable to sleep in,” she said, flustered.

  “I could believe the same could be said for you,” he said with a tip of his head and a slight quirk to his lips.

  “You shouldn’t talk like that,” she said, chuckling. “And I should be shocked and offended by the things you say.”

  “But you aren’t,” he said, a pleased conviction in his voice.

  “No. Why is that, do you suppose?” Alyssa pulled the covers up a little further, sitting on the bed to face him.

  “Because you are madly, insanely attracted to me and live for the least utterance that falls from my lips.” Jason smiled, enjoying this play.

  Alyssa burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hands to muffle the sound. “You are mad,” she said. “I don’t even know what you look like, let alone who you are.”

  “Oh but the mystery just adds to the excitement, doesn’t it? If you knew that I was just some lord something or other with a small estate on the edge of London who isn’t invited to the huge balls and has barely two coins to rub together, could you be as excited to see me as you are?”

  “Is that who you are?” she asked him curiously.

  “No, but it sounded convincing, didn’t it?”

  Alyssa snorted, she actually snorted. Her hands clasped across her mouth again, this time in embarrassment.

  Jason laughed, letting his brow rest against the top of her head, just enjoying being with her once more. This was the best he’d felt since leaving her the other night. “Now, we have a matter to discuss,” he said, lifting her chin with one long fingered hand.

  “What matter is that?”

  He let his lips brush hers, retreat and then reclaim, slowly wooing her lips into opening under his until his tongue dipped inside, tasting her heat once more and feeling the hunger for her grow. It came from deep inside, this need to possess her, but more than her body. He wanted to possess all of her.

  With his mouth on hers, his hands slipped down to the buttons on his shirt that she wore. “The matter of getting my shirt back,” he whispered against her lips, his fingers slipping into the opening he created, sliding over her breast to tease her nipple, feeling it harden against his hand.

  “Hmm,” she moaned, “well, I’d hate to be thought of as some kind of thief.” Her hands moved to his coat, unbuttoning the dark garment and pushing it off his shoulders, forcing him to take his hands off her so that she could push it fully off of him. And then she went to the buttons on his shirt, her hands trembling.

  Their lips met, melded, rubbed. Their tongues twined and twisted with the strength of their desire. His shirt was discarded and she mewled her satisfaction into his mouth, her hands roaming over the angles and plains of his chest, kneading her fingers into the long muscles of his back.

  “My boots, love,” he breathed into her mouth. “Help me out of them?”

  “And your mask,” she added, her fingers going to the black scarf.

  Jason grabbed her busy fingers before she could undo the knot that held it in place. “Not yet, love. I’m not ready for you to know the real me yet.”

  “When, then?” she asked, her tone demanding.

  “Soon, love. When I am sure that you will be content with the person that I am, I shall reveal all to you.”

  “Are you married?” Alyssa asked, her eyes accusing.

  “No, oh no, love. I don’t have a family to claim nor any promises made to any young lady. That is not it at all. But I do not expec
t you to understand. Only to wait and discover the truth of my identity when I feel I can reveal it.” He stood, reaching down to where she had tossed his shirt, sliding it on with a sigh. “But I see the mood has passed, mores the pity,” he said with a sideways glance at her.

  “Wait,” she said quickly. Alyssa rose, all long silky limbs and fiery red hair, the shirt he‘d unbuttoned slipping off of her shoulders to pool at her feet as she stood in a shaft of moonlight, proud and unashamed before him. The light caressed her skin, dappling it with shadows that intrigued the eye and made her a vision to encourage even the least inspired artist’s desire and talent.

  Jason stared, transfixed at the beauty of her long-limbed shape. She was slender but curved, her skin glowing softly in the light. Her eyes met his. In them he could see the desire, the longing she felt to be in his arms, the need to be loved the way he’d loved her a night that now seemed months past. She extended her hand and he dropped his shirt, reaching to pull her against his chest with a sigh that had nothing to do with passion.

  Alyssa felt him against her and closed her eyes, relishing the contact of his skin, the warmth of him. Maybe she was weak, but she wanted him here, with her. She felt his finger on her chin and raised her face to his, looking into his deep, dark eyes.

  “Can you live with just knowing me as Jamie for now?” he asked her quietly.

  “And only have a moment or two of your time, when you decide to share it with me?” she asked him in response.

  “It is the way it must be now, love. It is the only way we can be right now. You must know that it is my fervent desire to wake with you in my arms, to hold you all night, to feel you dream against me and know that I occupy even those unconscious thoughts.”