Master of Pleasure

by Delilah Marvelle

  She winced. “I’m sorry. I— What do you want me to do?” She leaned in and frantically searched his face, her hands hovering but not touching. “What can I do? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. What do you need?”

  He breathed in and out, in and out, trying to control the pain raging through coiled muscles. The fact she was staying with him and was panicked and concerned was a very good sign. It meant she…cared. She cared enough to do anything for him given he was in pain. Anything.

  It was a game he had played since he was nine-years-old.

  This just got dangerous.

  He cleared his throat, trying to raggedly focus on her and only her as opposed to the raging pain rolling up the length of his thigh. Because if he focused too much on the pain, knowing she was watching him in pain whilst on both of her delectable knees, begging him to instruct her, the perfect moment might not be so perfect. And he wanted it to be perfect. For her. For them. For whatever future—

  “Malcolm?” she choked out, still searching his face. “What can I do? Please. I want to help.”

  His eyes burned to restrain his aching need to savor the beautiful concern in those green eyes that were focused on him and only him. What if there was no perfect moment? What if he revealed his morbid need for pain and became nothing more than a freak in her eyes? A freak she would never trust to take care of her child or whatever child they brought into this world.

  He’d never know more than that single glorious kiss she’d given him.

  He’d never hear her say ‘I love you’ in the dark or feel her hands on his skin.

  It would all go to another. She and that wit and that laughter he wanted to swallow and keep chained to his heart would go to another. Not him. Another.

  “Malcolm?” she choked out again, sounding a touch more hysterical. “I need you to look at me and talk to me. Keep talking so I don’t think you’re fading. All right?”

  His heart hammered knowing, that in this moment, she was his, all his, without prejudice. She was merely waiting to serve him and wouldn’t think any less of him, because she didn’t know.

  He’d be her version of normal. He’d be excused anything merely for being in…a lot of pain.

  He caught her gaze and leveled his breathing. “Leona, I need you to do something that is going to make all of this damn pain worthwhile.”

  She lowered her hand and searched his face, her green eyes panicked. “Of course. What? Anything. What can I do?”

  “Close the door and lock it. I need you to lock it.”

  She paused. “Lock it? But the doctor will be—”

  “It’ll keep Jacob from seeing something he shouldn’t.” He was all about being honest. “Close and lock the door for me.”

  Her lips parted. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe— We’ll keep it closed until the doctor comes.” She jumped to her feet, stumbling, and slammed the door and locked it. She skid back toward him, landing back at his feet. She paused. “Wait. Should I go get the gin first?”

  “No. No gin. Not yet.” He wanted to feel everything that was about to happen. He shifted his jaw, digging his trembling fingers into the straw mattress beneath him. “Now come here. I need you to kiss me.”

  She pulled in her chin. “Kiss you?”

  “Yes. Kiss me.”

  She choked. “But you have a dagger sticking out of your leg!”

  He wet his lips and nodded. “I know. Believe me, I damn well know.” He dragged in several uneven breaths. “But this pain…it’s…it’s killing me. And I keep thinking to myself…what if I die?” He wasn’t in that much pain, but, how else was he going to get this woman to kiss him while he still had a dagger in him? “I need something to distract me while I’m waiting on the doctor. Do you know what I’m saying?”

  Leona glanced toward the locked door and then scrambled onto the mattress beside him, toward the side of his good leg. She scooted close, kneeling so as to get more to his level, then grabbed his face and kissed his cheek. She leaned back. “There. Is that better?”

  He gave her a withering look. “What the hell was that? Do you want me to die?”

  “No, I—”

  “Make this pain worth my while. Give me your tongue. Lots of it.”

  She stared. “Are you— How can you even think of kissing at a time like this? What is wrong with you?”

  “I’m in pain. A lot of pain.” He was.

  He leaned toward her and winced as the dagger rudely reminded him he had company. All he had to do was make her feel sorry for him. “If this is the last time you ever see me alive, pigeon, what sort of kiss would you want to remember me by? Show me. I’d love to see it.”

  Her cheeks flushed as an exasperated breath escaped her. “Must you call me pigeon and talk about death at the same time?”

  “Must you make me suffer and resist at the same time?” he breathed. “Don’t make me pull out this dagger. If I pull it out, blood will go everywhere and we’ll both faint. Now kiss me.”

  She glared. “You’re insane. But because I feel incredibly sorry for you right now, I’ll set aside all common sense and entertain it.” She seized his face with both hands and savagely kissed him, her hot velvet tongue dominating his.

  Malcolm almost fainted. Closing his eyes, he grabbed her head and worked his tongue against hers, digging his mouth harder against hers until he couldn’t breathe. Knowing he was making love to her mouth, his cock grew hard.

  He wasn’t a practicing Christian gentleman anymore.

  This was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. A woman willing to kiss him because he insisted, even though there was a dagger buried in his thigh. He gripped her hands and, while still kissing her, shoved them toward the flap of his trousers.

  She broke away from their kiss. “What— What are you doing?”

  His eyes snapped open as his chest heaved. “Avoid the blade and we’ll be fine.”

  She choked and leaned back. “Malcolm, how much blood have you lost?”

  “Not enough.” He tried to focus on the throb of his hard cock despite the fact that the entire left side of his leg was as equally numb as it was on fire. He grabbed her hands and bringing them to his lips, kissed them. Her palms were soft while her fingers were calloused and rough. He kept kissing and kissing them, wanting and needing her to give into his need. “I’m never letting you go. Not ever. This is just the beginning, do you not realize that?”

  Her fingers trembled as she watched him. “You’re delirious.”

  “The pain is incredibly bad,” he choked out. It was actually getting bad. So bad his cock wasn’t quite as hard as he wanted it to be. He gripped her hands in between more kisses. “Do you mind if I bite down on your hand? To help?”

  A shaky breath escaped her. “My hand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will it help?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then…do it.”

  This fantasy just kept getting better and better.

  He squeezed her hands tightly, swallowing hard. “I’ll only bite down once, but I will warn you, it will amount to the same amount of pain I’m feeling. Are you capable of handling it?”

  She gave him a withering look. “I gave birth standing.”

  Damn. “Good. That means you can handle it.” He dug his teeth against the side of her hand, savoring her warmth and softness and then bit down forcefully hard until he could feel his own chest tighten, watching her expression.

  She winced, her chest heaving. “Ow!” She yanked her hand away, glared and smacked his shoulder twice. “How is this even helping you?! You’re getting out of control!”

  “You have no idea.” She would have looked exactly the same if he pounded his cock into her. He grabbed her face and kissed her again, only this time, he slowed the pace and the pressure. He moved his tongue delicately against hers as a reward for the pain she took for him.

  She moaned against him and her mouth softened.

  He slid his hands down her neck to her
shoulders and curved them to her breasts. Breasts. Beautiful breasts. They were his. At long last his. They were so full and soft even with the material in his way. He was never going back to ‘normal’ after this. Ever.

  Knowing he couldn’t fully undress her, seeing the doctor could arrive at any moment, he savagely shoved up her skirts. Forcing her onto her knees in between kisses by tugging her into place beside his good thigh, he slid both his hands up the smooth length of her thighs, reveling in how soft she was. He opted not to pinch or scrape her skin in need given she was responding to him without knowing what he was capable of.

  Lord, I vow to protect her. For in doing this, I make her mine. Forever.

  She broke away from their kiss, her chest heaving and managed, “For heaven’s sake, you’re injured and the doctor—”

  “You’re my doctor right now,” he insisted, dragging her closer and sliding his finger into the folds of her wetness beneath her gown. “I need this. I need you.” He stroked his finger against her, blindly looking for the proverbial nub he’d heard of. “Writhe for me.”

  She gasped and used one hand to steady herself against his shoulder. “I can’t…I…Malcolm

  …I…”

  He buried his head against her corseted waist, biting into the material that separated them and fingered her harder. The pain in his thigh amplified his senses beyond tolerance as he flicked her. The nub controlling her gasps and the involuntary jerk of her hips was so delicate and so small against his large finger, he refused to believe it was capable of giving him this much command.

  She bowed her head forward against him, fighting against what he knew her body wanted.

  Withdrawing his finger from her folds, he smeared her wetness against his mouth and tongue, wanting to know what it would taste like. Salty and sweet. Like her. His hands trembled as he unbuttoned the flap of his trousers, shoved down his undergarments and pulled his rigid cock out, only exposing what was needed to make her his.

  He laid back against the mattress and tangled linen, wincing against the blade that was oozing more blood. He didn’t care. If he made love to her and died from blood loss, his life would at least be what it needed to be: real. Heatedly holding her gaze, he held up the length of his stiff cock at its root with both hands. “I’m yours if you want it.”

  Her chest heaved as her gaze went from his exposed cock to the dagger in his lower thigh, the wool of the trousers around it blood soaked. “Malcolm,” she choked out, her features twisting in anguish. “I wouldn’t deny you in any other circumstance, but I can’t do this. I can’t—”

  He hissed out a breath, recognizing she had gone beyond what he had even hoped for. “Just watch me then. It’s all I need to get me through this.” He wet his hand with saliva and did something he hadn’t done since he was eighteen. He masturbated.

  Holding her stunned gaze, Malcolm used one large hand to hold the root of his cock and the other to jerk its midway to tip. He writhed in pain and pleasure as he worked his hand faster, his chest tightening against sensations he had long forgotten were worth feeling.

  Knowing she hadn’t once averted her gaze but was still watching him, he breathed out, “Your eyes haunt me into wanting to do things I swore I’d never do.”

  A shaky breath escaped her. Leona lowered herself to his side, carefully setting her body against the better half of him, and with trembling hands, touched his face.

  Her submission was all his heart needed to burst. Fiercely burying her head against his waistcoat with one hand, he sped up stroking his cock beyond his own breath and control until he yelled out against the blinding glory of pulsing pleasure that was laced with pain. The pleasure of his cock became greater than the pain streaking through his thigh, making his breath catch in reverence of how the two battled for his senses.

  His seed leaked from the tip, warning him its warmth would soon cover his entire hand and cock. He refused to stop stroking. He refused to give into knowing it was almost over. He gritted his teeth, prodding and jerking his cock into giving his entire body more spiraling spasms and enough seed to fill Leona’s womb beyond holding.

  Malcolm stiffened, knowing he was about to— “Leona, take me into your mouth,” he choked. “If you feel anything for me, anything at all, I need you to—”

  Her mouth was already on his cock, her hot wet mouth pressing down on whatever length she could fit into her mouth.

  Jerking against the velvet of her tight mouth, he held her head and buried his cock into her throat as far as it would go. He tensed as his seed pulsed and filled her mouth. She gagged. He groaned in blurring disbelief that he had spurted so much into her mouth.

  His hands fell away from her and onto the mattress. He drifted, his head and his body and his heart feeling as if it no longer existed. It didn’t need to. It had experienced too much.

  Leona sat up and using the linens wiped all of his seed from her mouth into it.

  In between ragged breaths, he blindly shoved his cock away into his trousers and buttoned the flap then adjusted himself. He winced, realizing the dagger had moved with him. He pushed himself up on shaky arms and grabbed Leona, kissing her on the mouth hard. He refrained from nipping her lower lip.

  To his surprise, she scrambled out of his arms and jogged over to the door. Unlocking it, she banged it open. Uneven breaths escaped her. Lingering by the door, she set both hands against flushed cheeks and made her way back over. “Why did you do that? Why did you…?”

  Malcolm lifted his gaze to hers, feeling lightheaded. Everything was beginning to catch up to him. His arms trembled in an effort to hold himself up. The room swayed, and he didn’t know if it was because of how Leona made him feel or because blood had been trickling out of the sides of the blade for too long.

  He staggered, reaching out a heavy hand to her. “Would you believe me if I said you make me delirious? Now come here.”

  She was quiet for a moment, then slipped her hand into his.

  Using whatever strength he had left within him, he yanked her down toward himself, forcing her to sit beside him on the mattress. He grazed the softness of her face with his fingers, watching his thumb edge along her cheek and then her lips. “If you haven’t already guessed, I’m yours, and I’m damn well hoping you’re mine. You better be mine.”

  She searched his face, confusion clouding her pretty features. “Malcolm, why did you—”

  He curved his hand around the back of her neck and gently gripped it. “Because I wanted to ensure this was real. I needed to know you and your concern were real. Was it real?”

  Her brows came together. “Of course it was real. What sort of stupid—”

  He jerked her toward himself and covered her mouth with his, not wanting to talk. He worked his tongue against hers, refusing to stop until the doctor came or until he lost consciousness. Whichever came first.

  “I hate to interrupt what appears to be an application of modern medicine—” Holbrook called out, “—but the doctor will be here in a few minutes thanks to a neighbor, who let Jacob and I borrow his carriage. We just got back.”

  Though not wanting to let Leona go out of fear he’d never get a chance to touch her again, Malcolm released her, still breathing hard from everything they had done. “Thank you for the kiss, Leona,” he rumbled out. He needed that. He’d been waiting his whole life to feel…loved.

  Lurching back, she frantically swept back hair that was falling into her eyes.

  Striding toward them, Holbrook veered his gaze to Malcolm’s leg. He let out a long whistle. “That certainly gives a whole new meaning to taking it in the leg, Brayton.” Nudging Jacob who lingered close beside him, Holbrook prompted, “Give this poor man some gin, Jacob. Oh and uh…Miss Webster, Brayton…I just wanted to say…I kept this boy from hearing things that would have aged him by at least twenty years. So…you’re welcome.”

  Malcolm and Leona both cringed in unison.

  Thumping his way over to Malcolm in silence, Jacob held out a full bottle of
gin, his small chest lifting and falling in confusion.

  Shit. “Thank you, Jacob.” Reaching out for the bottle with a dignified flinch ignited by pain that was exhausting him beyond what he liked or wanted, Malcolm accepted it. He met the boy’s gaze, trying to even his breathing. “Your mother’s kisses make me feel better,” he sheepishly offered.

  Andrew snorted. “I bet they do.”

  Malcolm glared. “Make yourself useful, Andrew, and get more gin. I need to get drunk before the doctor gets here.”

  He hated needles and pins. It had the opposite effect of what he considered euphoria. They reminded him of the old tailor who used to come out to the cottage when he was fifteen and prick him with too many pins in all the wrong places. The old tailor smelled like urine and in between pinning wools and tweeds to Malcolm’s body for measurements, the old man’s cock would grow visibly hard from all the touching. The old man never did anything, but it wasn’t a memory he liked. No needles or pins. “Bring two more bottles of gin. This first one here will be going mostly to the leg.”

  “More gin it is. I’ll be right back.” Saluting him, Holbrook jogged out.

  Jacob openly gaped at the blade still sticking out of Malcolm’s leg. He pointed. “Is that going to stay in your leg from now on?”

  Malcolm coughed out a rough laugh and then winced from the exaggerated movement. “Uh…no. Not if I can help it, Jacob.”

  Jacob blinked. “Oh.”

  “You’ve seen more than enough,” Leona interjected. “Don’t look at it, Jacob. It’s— Let’s go back downstairs. Lord Brayton is a touch delirious.” Scooting toward the edge of the bed, she picked Jacob up into her arms with a large breath and staggered. “Oh, for the love of butterflies. You’re getting heavy.” She winced and then stared down Malcolm, her cheeks and mouth visibly flushed from their kisses. “Hopefully the gin will remedy whatever I couldn’t. And when you do recover from the doctor and the gin, my lord, you had better start talking. Are we understood in this?”

  How was he even going to begin? He cleared his throat. “Yes, Leona. Perfectly.”