The first time was relatively innocent enough, to be sure. A sweet touch of chaste skin, a tender phantom closeness, all with the intention of bringing them closer together, of becoming something more. But the second time, there had been no mistaking the deviant, animalic lust that had overtaken him. When he felt her unseen lips part for him, when he felt her warm tongue lapping at his firm prick, it was like no encounter he had ever experienced before. She had felt otherworldly and when he reached his climax, he felt her swallow every drop of his seed as eagerly and dutifully as though she were his loving wife. That was when he knew: there would never be any freedom from his unnatural urges. His craving to have her collared and obedient and begging him for more.
Christopher had been filled from that moment on with an unrelenting need for his ward. He wanted to bind her to him forever, he wanted to take her whenever and wherever he felt like it. She made him feel not like a simple merchant of magical goods, but as powerful and content as a king in his castle. She was made to be his queen. His.
Which is why he knew it was better for the both of them that he steer them away from this path. His desires for her were dark, unnatural, and borderline obsessive. He very much doubted that a stunning young creature like Verity would be happy with a lifetime collared to her husband’s lusts. Better to nip it in the bud now than to allow a dark and tainted rose to bloom.
But damned if the sweet baggage had not bewitched him! Christopher doubled back and considered that a moment. Had she bewitched him? But no, the reports from the boarding school indicated no magical aptitude on Verity’s part, and he had exhibited none of the telltale symptoms of a typical love curse. So why could he not erase her from his mind and get on with his life? Verity was all he had thought of day in, day out, since the night of their oral adventure with the amulet.
“The ghost of her mouth around my prick will be the death of me, I do not doubt it,” he mused aloud to the fireplace. A discreet knock at the library door stirred him from his dour half-erection. When he answered the knock, it was his butler with the requested report.
“Miss Gibbs has gone to bed, sir. I am sad to report that she, too, did not partake of the evening meal, but Cook was successful in coaxing the young miss into drinking a cup of chocolate before retiring for the night.”
“I see, thank you. Did she look well…?”
“If by ‘well’ you mean ‘sobbing her young heart out and inconsolably desolate’ then, yes, I suppose she did, sir.”
Christopher gave his butler a wry look, thanked him for the update, and bid him a good-night. He returned to his chair by the fire and poured himself another glass of wine to drink as he mused over this information. He seemed to come to a resolution at length and stood up, downed his glass, and left the library in a hurry towards Verity’s room.
When she answered his knock he saw that her eyes indeed were red and puffy from hours of crying. He noticed, too, that she still wore his amulet around her neck. When she saw it was he at her door, a look of feminine outrage crossed her features and her lips thinned to a line.
“Good evening, Mr. Windham. I did not expect to see you again so soon. Or ever.”
“Miss Gibbs, if I might have a moment of your time,” he began. She folded her arms over her creamy bosom and looked at him expectantly.
“You may have it.”
Christopher hedged, glancing down the hall to spot any servants.
“Please, may I come in?”
“Well, you are my guardian,” she said icily, stepping aside to allow him to pass. “I suppose you are allowed that much no matter what I might want to say about it.”
“Please, Miss Gibbs, I know that you are angry with me—”
“Angry? Is that what I am?” The blazing fury in her pale blue eyes was an elemental that Christopher would prefer not to tangle with. He closed the door behind him and tried again.
“Miss—Verity. When we shared that first moment between the necklace and the bangle last week, I thought I had done it. I had found a way for us to enjoy one another no matter the distance that might take me away from you over matters of business. When we shared the second night I thought, well, it was hard to think of anything at all other than yourself.”
Verity blushed but said nothing, though the look on her face expressed sheer confusion. Christopher rushed on ahead, stumbling his way to the point.
“When we had finished, I immediately wanted you again. And even more the next morning. And moreso than that by the end of the second evening. Do you see? You fill me with an insatiable longing and Verity, my tastes… they are not the chaste or virtuous tastes of a good husband, do you understand?”
Christopher’s words filled Verity with a quivering hunger that she couldn’t quite comprehend. Images flooded her mind that she dare not think on for too long, lest his words blast them apart as he had done to her feelings earlier that day. She shook her head. “Please do explain it for me,” she said.
“If we were to wed, if we were to continue using your amulet and my ring… I should want to take you whenever the desire so struck me. You would be utterly mine to have however often I liked. You would be my willing vessel, Verity.”
Verity’s knees felt weak at the suggestion and her mouth went dry. “Whenever and wherever?” She prompted.
“You might be out on a social call and suddenly you would feel me pushing inside you. You might be sitting down to breakfast and feel me filling your bottom. You might be in the bath and I would be down your throat. And so on. Do you understand?”
Verity’s eyes shone with desire. She knew it was sinful to want to so wantonly give herself over to this man, to be his pocket whore whenever the urge to slip the ring over his prick struck him, but her body’s demands were undeniable. Wetness flooded between her legs and the room felt suddenly far too hot.
“So I might be taking a stroll through quite a public park, and suddenly I would feel you moving within me, thrusting deep into my most private areas while I tried to carry on a conversation,” she said slowly.
Christopher nodded. “You have the right of it. I have urges that demand submission, that thirst for you on your knees. And having the power to fulfill those urges, even were we to be a continent apart? The need is even greater. So you see, I could not in good consciousness ask you to be my wife, knowing that I would be bringing these needs into our marital bed.”
Verity looked up at him slowly and took a few breaths before daring to speak. “And what if I told you, Mr. Windham, that those thoughts are what I, too, hunger for?”
“Verity?” He asked, not daring to say more.
“Everything you just described sounds almost too good to be true, sinful as I know it to be. But I understand—you are a man of the world and I am but eighteen years of age and fresh out of boarding school. You are concerned that what might seem like a diverting novelty today would be a dreadful bore to me tomorrow.”
“That is correct.” Christopher nodded.
“Then, Mr. Windham, I see only one solution to our shared predicament.”
“And what would that be, Verity?” Christopher found himself standing close, quite close, to his beautiful ward. Her lips were one inclined head away from his own. In a slow, gentle movement, she brought those perfect lips to his and they shared a lightning-bolt kiss between them. When at last they pulled away, Verity grinned.
“Clearly, we need a trial arrangement. Let us use the power of the amulet and the ring. Whenever and wherever you wish, I am your willing poppet. Do not hold back, not even once. If I am to be educated as to what my future husband’s needs might be, then I shall require the full experience.”
“But—” Christopher began to object to this appealing madness but Verity held a hand up to silence his fears.
“What if it doesn’t work out? Well, as my guardian you would know very well that no man had actually touched me. If we go our separate ways and I need find myself a reputable marriage, you and every other person in this household could sa
y without a doubt that I have not engaged in any physical extramarital affairs.”
“That’s very clever of you,” Christopher observed. He also observed just how erect he was. Verity, all to himself. The idea made him want to bend her over her own bed then and there and make it official. But he took a step back and drew a deep, steadying breath.
“Very well,” he said. “I accept your proposition, Verity. We shall start this very evening and end in a fortnight’s time or earlier, should you but say the word. If it ever becomes too much for you, I insist you tell me immediately by whatever means necessary. On one condition.”
“And what would that be, Mr. Windham?” Verity’s eyes sparkled like twin stars.
“Refer to me as Christopher from now on.”
He had not intended to touch her physically again, but when another smile broke across her face, he had to hold her in his arms and take her face in his hands and press his lips to hers with all the passion she so engendered within him. Kissing her was a pleasure unlike anything he had ever felt before, and he was determined that it would not be their last.
Eventually, they parted once again with murmured good-nights and reassurances of their bargain.
“Have a pleasant evening, Christopher,” were Verity’s last words to him as she closed her bedroom door once again with a knowing grin. He certainly planned on doing exactly that.
Chapter Six
Verity did not see how it was possible that one could start out the evening so miserable and end it on such a high, happy note. Yet here she was, drying away the last remnants of heartbreak from her eyes and preparing herself for her first evening with her lover. Christopher had explained all, had made amends, and now they were about to embark on a secret, deliciously sinful journey together that no one could ever know about.
She had just slipped out of her frock and stood naked in front of her fireplace with her nightgown in her hands when she felt the amulet nestled against her chest begin to warm to life. She looked down to see the telltale soft red glow of magic activating, and she knew her Christopher had placed the ring around his manhood and spoken the invocation that connected them.
The nightgown fell to the floor in a pool of soft cotton at her bare feet. She felt a thrill of naughtiness run through her at what she was about to embark upon. Here she was, eighteen and unmarried and about to lose her maidenhead to a phantom cock! Verity giggled at the thought and then abruptly gasped as she felt his hot, rigid manhood press against her velvet mound.
It felt somehow bigger and firmer than before, perhaps in comparison to how small and vulnerable she suddenly felt. Christopher pressed against the wet lips to her opening and gently parted them as she stood there, still as a statue in front of the fire. The sensation was a little frightening, if she were honest, but also stoked a flame inside of her that demanded satisfaction—a greater satisfaction than what her fingers could accomplish on their own.
Verity set her legs further apart and sank to her knees on the soft sheepskin rug in front of her fireplace. She could feel him waiting, hesitant, pressed against her virgin entrance and full of absolute need but still so uncertain as to whether or not he should go through with it.
“Take me,” she whispered into the crackling air. She was certain he could not hear her, but nonetheless his prick pulled back for a brief moment at the same time that she spoke, then plunged inside of her, spreading her around him, stretching her to fit his unseen manhood. Verity gasped and stifled a moan.
So this is what it’s like, she thought. This is what it is to know the touch of a man from within.
Christopher was gentle with her on their first night, knowing she was inexperienced and no doubt a little scared. He moved inside her a little bit deeper with each thrust until he reached the wall of her hymen. There, he began gyrating inside of her, rubbing up against the sensitive, tender walls of her womanhood, sending wave after wave of pleasure through her body. He would not take her virginity until she was thoroughly satisfied.
Verity’s hips gyrated almost of their own accord as he pleasured her with minute strokes and shifts. Her hands wandered up her lithe body to her breasts, where she boldly fondled herself to her further satisfaction.
“Oh, Christopher,” she breathed. “I am yours forever.”
It did not take much longer after that point for her arousal to reach a fever pitch, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from screaming aloud with pleasure when she finally came around him inside of her, squeezing and pulsing around his prick, her heart racing, panting for breath.
When her orgasm began to subside, when she was just over the precipice of bliss and her muscles began to unwind, Christopher pulled out of her and then thrust in with all the passion and pent-up desire he had harbored for so long. He broke through her maidenhead with one swift, piercing movement and Verity did cry out briefly at that, but the pain did not last and she was so wet and slick with her orgasm that when he filled her to the hilt, it felt to her as though she had never truly known what it was to feel complete until that moment.
She tried to stay upright on her knees, but his thrusts were so insistent, so masterful of her, that she fell first to her hands and then splayed out on the warm rug as she submitted to her lover’s carnal needs. She writhed in pleasure against him, filled with an unnamed longing to serve, to fulfill. As he had brought her pleasure to fruition, so, too, did she yearn to be the bearer of her Christopher’s release.
She felt him ascending, felt him pushing deeper to reach his climax, and she ground her hips against the rug and writhed around the phantom member buried deep in her loins. Verity arched her back, relishing the sweet, utter freedom of knowing but one goal, one purpose in all of creation: to bring pleasure to her lover. And when he spent himself, Verity’s eyes went wide as his hot seed shot deep inside of her and she felt him pulsing within her own body.
“Yes, my love,” she gasped out against the soft rug. “This is the way.”
Verity knew with a solid, true-as-Earth certainty that she was his as he was hers, no matter how hesitant he may have been to divulge his secret yearnings. They were entwined now, not just by magic, but by an unspoken bond of love and wanting and secret moments only the two of them could ever know. She fell asleep there naked on the rug, with Christopher still inside her, and did not awaken until the earliest hours of the morning when the fire had died down and a chill draft called her back to her bed.
At the breakfast table the next morning, the two of them made a cheeky game of conversation beneath the watchful eyes and ears of the household staff.
“Good morning, Miss Gibbs,” Christopher greeted her as he sipped his coffee while poring over the morning paper. “You look quite… well rested.”
“Thank you, Mr. Windham, that’s quite kind of you to say. I do certainly feel well rested. I think it is on account of a new sleeping position I tried last night.” Verity sat down fresh as a flower and accepted her routine cup of chocolate.
“Really? And what new position might that be?”
“Oh, it is a new-fangled idea fresh from Paris. You lie flat on your stomach and spread your legs wide, in sort of a bow shape, and you reach your arms above your head as far as you can. It’s extremely relaxing. They say it aids in the proper circulation of internal fluids, which promotes a superior night’s rest.”
Christopher choked on his coffee and Verity smirked triumphantly over the rim of her cup.
“And what plans have you for the morning, now that you are so… well rested?” He asked her once he had fully recovered.
“I quite think I should like to try fitting in as much fun as I can,” she mused innocently. “You know, really ram in as much activity in one day as one could possibly stand. Really pack in my schedule until I’m so positively exhausted that I can scarcely walk. I should like to so thoroughly exhaust myself in pleasurable diversions that I will have to crawl into my bed this evening.”
Christopher stared at her dumbstruck for a lon
g moment until he realized she had continued speaking. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I inquired as to your day, Mr. Windham,” Verity smiled. “Do you have anything interesting planned?”
Christopher recovered himself enough to smile wickedly back at his precocious ward. “Why no, I have nothing planned at all.”
Chapter Seven
Christopher ran his fingers along the twisting vines of the curious bangle and counted himself one of the luckiest men in all of Creation. After his morning coffee, he had immediately retreated to his study on the pretense of taking care of some business. But once he saw a carriage pull up to the front of the house and leave with Verity, his entire being itched to put the ring around his member and make use of her once again. He wanted her to feel him deep inside of her, pushing her towards the brink of climax, over and over and over again. He wanted to pin her down and fill her as he sunk his teeth into the back of her neck, like a beast. He wanted to claim her as his rightful prize.
But all in good time. She would be expecting him to make use of their connection now, and he wanted to build up that anticipation within her. He wanted her just as eager for it as he was himself. And so he sat at his desk, stared at some pending paperwork, and daydreamt of the previous evening.
Filling her so completely for the first time was nothing short of pure bliss. He felt the way she submitted to his desire, the way she parted for him like a gentle sea. The way she moved her body around his spectral cock and urged him on towards his release. She seemed practically made for him, in every way.
And now, Christopher would see just how serious Verity was in her desire to follow him down the path of his dark dreams. He waited until she had been gone nearly two hours before he slipped into the ring and recited the incantation. It was becoming almost second nature to light up their secret connection. He felt her quite nearly immediately, felt her presence before him. If he closed his eyes and focused, Christopher could pick up on hints as to her location and state of being.
In His Pocket: The Arcanist's Ward (Mystic Sins of the Regency Book 1) Page 3
