by Lacy Danes
“I’m not going to be able to concentrate on a bloody thing my steward is saying. Not after this.”
“What will you be thinking?” she asked, pressing her face into his shoulder and feeling safe within his arms.
He lifted her face and smiled wickedly at her. “Reach into my pocket.” She did and found the note nestled there. “My thoughts are there, Elizabeth. Everything I was thinking this afternoon. Read it if you want to know what I was thinking while my cock was in my hand.”
She watched him walk away, his shoulders so broad in the sunlight that bathed the hall through the transom windows. When he reached his study, he turned and looked at her.
“I will send a servant for you when I am finished. Come to me here, Elizabeth, in my study. It’s where I want you to live out that.” He nodded, indicating the letter in her hands.
Elizabeth waited till he closed the door behind him before opening the letter. She bit her lip on a smile as her eyes greedily ate his words.
I’m watching you through the window, sitting in the coach. I’m wondering what you’re wearing beneath your pelisse and gown, imagining your breasts pushed up by your corset. I’m envisioning my hands all over you, undressing you. I’m dreaming of the way you sound, moaning and panting, silently begging me to touch you, to fill you with my cock.
I’m thinking of you, with your legs spread, your quim glistening for me. I want you wearing nothing but your silk beaded slippers and demure lace stockings. And the image of that, Christ, it makes me so hot, so hard, that I know when I’m done writing this, I’m going to stroke my cock, imagining it’s you…your hand, your mouth, your tight sex.
And when I finally have you all to myself, I’m going to press against you and not ask you, but command you to fuck me. And what will you say then, Elizabeth? Will you let me fuck you?
CHAPTER FIVE
“YOUR GRACE?”
“What is it?” Christian demanded as a footman peered around the door of his study.
“Her Grace asked that I give you this. She said it was most important.”
Waving the footman in, Christian sat back in his chair and smiled to himself. Lord, he was erect again, just thinking of what was going to lie within that little pink folded paper lying in the footman’s white-gloved palm.
“Thank you, Jenkins. That will be all.” Ignoring his steward, who was politely flipping through his folio of documents, Christian flicked opened Elizabeth’s note.
I wouldn’t say anything, because I want to be taken. Taken by you, however you want me. Hard, animalistic, like strangers who have just met and who burn for the feel of each other. Like lovers who have been denied too long.
He stifled a groan. Another one of his fantasies, just taking her as if she was his possession. As if he had total rights to her body.
I am wet. Aching for you, for your cock deep inside me. I still have the taste of you in my mouth. I can still feel you inside me, thick, hard…filling me so full with your beautiful length…
I want to watch as you fill me. I want to see the slow slide of your cock in and out of my body. I have never confessed this to you before, but I have always wished to make love before a mirror. To see your body and mine together.
He swallowed—hard. “Where is Her Grace, Jenkins?” he asked without looking up from her elegant handwriting.
“I believe the duchess is in the garden, Your Grace. I saw her with her bonnet and rose clippers.”
“Excuse me.”
His steward gaped at him, but nodded, clearly bewildered by his actions. Eagerly, his long steps ate up the distance from his study to the back terrace which led to the gardens. He didn’t stop until he had rounded the corner of the mansion and found her humming while snipping pink roses from a bush and dropping them into the basket that rested at her feet.
He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, dragging her against him.
“What!” she gasped then turned around. Her bonnet fell off, and he raked his hands through her hair, dispelling pins and combs and watching as the blond tresses fell down her back.
“Lift your skirts,” he demanded as he pushed her back against the brick wall of the house.
She did, eagerly, and his blood raced at the sight. He grasped her hands in his and held them above her head with one hand. With his free hand, he undid his trousers then lifted her skirts until he felt her sex, which was wet, swollen.
“Fuck me,” he ordered, whispering the command into her ear. He pushed up inside her and listened to her keening cry. “You like that, don’t you?” he asked her as he thrust harder into her, watching her long lashes cover her eyes. “You like being taken like this.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Like this. I want this from you. I never thought you wanted me in such a way.”
“You think I haven’t thought of having you like this?” he asked, unable to conceal his surprise. “You think I’ve never wanted you this way, wanton and wicked and craving me. That I’ve never dreamt of fingering your quim while seated at a dinner party, watching your face, knowing my fingers are deep inside you while you try to act the part of a duchess? Do you think I haven’t wanted to pull you into my study and lay you across the desk and pleasure your sex with my mouth?”
Elizabeth could barely concentrate on what he was saying. She was shattering inside, aware of nothing but the feel of his hand around her wrists and his cock inside her. Between them there were clothes and the whispering caress of the wind, but inside her was Christian—hot and hard.
“Do you think I haven’t wanted to fuck you up against a wall? Christ, Elizabeth, I’ve thought it more than I’d care to admit, and doing it now is better than any fevered imagining I’ve ever had.”
She was excited by this, being taken by him in such a way—up against a wall, still clothed. He was panting in her ear, his fingers were biting into her wrists as he increased the rhythm of his strokes, and then she was crying out and shaking around him.
He didn’t cover her mouth, concealing her sounds of pleasure. Instead, he watched her, encouraged her, before splashing his seed deep inside her.
“You’ve more than lived up to my fantasies,” he murmured as he nuzzled the patch of skin beneath her ear. “I want to make you happy. Tonight, Elizabeth, I swear I will. I want you to come back to me, Lizzy. Please come back.”
“I have never left you, Christian, I swear it.”
He looked up at her and she saw his love for her in his eyes. “I am forever yours, Lizzy, never forget it.”
“Your Grace?”
“Damn, that will be Jenkins,” Christian muttered, letting her go from his hold before the footman came upon them. “I am here,” he called, buttoning his trousers.
“Mr. Struthers would like to know if you wish him to remain in your study or if he should return another day.”
He cast her an apologetic look and raked a hand through his hair. “Go back to your work, Christian,” she said. “I am always here.”
“That is what got us into trouble in the first place, Elizabeth. I always thought you would be, and then when it became apparent you might not, I realized how terrified I was of losing you.”
“That is all I wanted to hear,” she cried, flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him. “I only wanted to know that I still mean something to you.”
“You are my life, Elizabeth,” he whispered, sounding choked with emotion. “Our children are my life. Being a duke is a duty, my occupation, but it is not what I live for. I live for you.”
“Your Grace?”
“He is already on his way, Jenkins,” she answered for her husband.
Christian’s eyes seemed to turn blacker as he looked down at her. “I couldn’t have let you go to him, you know.”
“Who?”
He reached out and placed his hand along the side of her face. “Adrian. I saw you together in the conservatory this morning. I wanted to kill him and drag you to our room, never allowing you to leave it, or me. I
can bear anything, Elizabeth, except the loss of you. You’re mine. You have been since the minute I saw you sitting on the terrace at Lady Ashton’s garden party. You don’t know how much I love you. How much I want to make you happy. How sorry I am for not being what you have needed in a husband—a man—these past months.”
“You’re everything I want and need. Right now, Christian, this is it—all I ever needed from you.”
He kissed her, slowly, more lovingly than ever before. “It is just the beginning, Elizabeth. I swear it.”
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON WHEN THE SERVANT Christian sent for her knocked on her chamber door.
“Your Grace?” a maid asked. “His Grace has requested you join him in his study.”
Putting the last pin into her hair, Elizabeth took a step back and examined herself in the looking glass. On the outside she looked like herself, the Duchess of Sutcliffe, but beneath her elegant gown was someone new.
“Your Grace?”
“I will be there directly,” she called, slipping her feet into her cream-colored, high-heeled shoes. They were beaded with seed pearls and pink bows and cream lace. Made in Paris, they were all that was fashionable and decidedly feminine. Hopefully Christian would slaver at the sight of them, not to mention her matching stockings and lacy unmentionables.
Poised and refined, she strolled to the door and walked down the long carpeted hall that led to the stairs. With an air of nonchalance, she proceeded to her husband’s study. She was surprised to see that a footman was not standing sentry outside the door, waiting to open it for her. Smiling to herself, she wondered if Christian had dismissed them in order to allow them some privacy.
“You called for me?”
He was standing at the window sipping a glass of brandy as he gazed out over his land. He turned his head and allowed his gaze to flicker along her body. That gaze, that look, heated her blood. There was blatant lust in his eyes.
“I thought perhaps you might want to play a game of chess with me.”
“Chess?” she asked, suddenly deflated.
“Yes, chess,” he said, smiling as he stretched his hand out to her. “It is a pleasant afternoon and the breeze is blowing in just the right direction through this window. I thought it would be an enjoyable interlude. Come, one game, Elizabeth, that is all I ask.”
Confused, she arched her brow. “Game?” she asked, unable to comprehend what exactly he was asking.
“Why, a game of chess, of course,” he said, smiling like a panther stalking its prey. “What other sort of game did you have in mind?”
“Nothing,” she murmured, shaking her head. “One game of chess it is.”
“Excellent.” His teeth flashed behind a devilish smile as he sat her on a settee and pulled the chess table before her, centering it so that the white pieces faced her. Then, reaching for a chair, he turned it so that he straddled it, his muscular legs evocatively outlined in his trousers while he removed his jacket and waistcoat. Elizabeth had never seen him in such a state of undress. He was either immaculately turned out, or naked. Both states were arousing, but this, this half-undressed look did something to her insides that was utterly scandalous.
“You may make the first move.”
Tearing her gaze away from his thighs, she advanced a pawn and within four moves had Christian’s knight in her sight. “This is almost too easy.” She clapped with unconcealed glee as Christian moved his bishop, leaving the knight vulnerable. “Really, Christian, allowing your knight to be captured by a pawn. What were you thinking?”
“My attention does seem to be waning,” he murmured, looking up through his long dark lashes. His gaze burned into her face before lowering and searing the mounds of her breasts. “Perhaps we should play for more, shall we say, interesting stakes.”
“Gamble?” she asked, pretending outrage at such a thing.
“Not as such,” he grinned, his long tapered fingers resting on the piece he intended to move. “More like a boon. I will request something of you if I take one of your pieces. Likewise, you may do the same if you manage to capture any more of mine.”
“If I manage?” she sputtered. “How arrogant of you to think you can best me. You have captured only one of my pieces. I, on the other hand, have your knight, a rook, and numerous pawns in my keeping. In fact, your queen is even now in jeopardy of my bishop.”
“Hmm,” he mused, studying the board. “You appear to be correct in that assumption. Perhaps with those odds, and your obvious superiority at the game, you feel more interesting stakes might be worth the risk?”
Something about the way his eyes gleamed made Elizabeth wet. This was all part of some grand strategy of his and she was thoroughly enjoying it. The children were upstairs napping and the servants all occupied with their duties. The study door was locked and the key to the door was lying beside Christian’s hand. They were utterly alone and secluded in his study. No one dared to disturb the great Duke of Sutcliffe while he was in his study.
Playing along, she smiled seductively. “Very well, Your Grace. I will grant you whatever boon you request if you succeed in taking one of my pieces.”
“Excellent,” he drawled.
In two astute moves, Christian had captured her knight, and was seriously bearing down upon her bishop.
“You seem to have improved.”
“Hmm,” he agreed. “I’ve always been one to find high stakes vastly motivating. Now then,” he said, after his last remaining knight took her bishop. “I believe you owe me a boon, madam. Well, two boons, but I shall settle for one large one.”
“Yes?” Elizabeth asked, striving for an air of boredom, when all she really felt was a keen sense of anticipation. “What is it you want?”
He smiled then, a grin so superior, so blatantly sensual, that Elizabeth blinked several times to make sure she had interpreted it correctly.
“Take off your gown.”
“Here?” she asked, unnerved by the thought. It was broad daylight. Anyone might wander outside and look in through the window. The children…
“Elizabeth,” he said, drawing out her name, “I want you out of that gown. And I want to watch as you disrobe for me.”
“Rogue,” she muttered, while her trembling fingers fumbled with the fastenings at the back of her gown. Only when she started to slide one sleeve over her shoulder did she dare to look at him.
He sat before her on his chair, his chin resting on his folded arms, watching her every move. His gaze, unblinking, followed the printed muslin as it slid down her arms and over her breasts. When the bodice rested against her waist, she hesitated, looking up to gauge his reaction.
“Take it off,” he commanded. “All the way.”
Elizabeth stood up, allowing the fabric to skim over her hips and down her thighs until it was just a puddle around her ankles. With as much grace as she could muster, she stepped out of the gown and stood before him. She had removed her corset after her nap, and had not bothered to put it back on. Her large breasts were now straining against the pink and cream chemise. The French silk hugged her body like a glove, the lace fringing the neckline and hem skimming her breasts and thighs in what she hoped was a provocative invitation to explore her body.
She saw his gaze slide up the front of her till their gazes met. He reminded her of a pasha as he sat staring up at her, his eyes boldly raking over her as if she was a slave he was considering buying.
“You’re stunning, every inch of you,” he whispered as his gaze once more caressed her breasts, her belly and the apex of her thighs. “I’d pay a pretty pence to have you for a night, Elizabeth.”
“Would you?”
“What man wouldn’t, with breasts and hips such as yours? You are every man’s dream, Elizabeth. Every man’s sexual ideal.”
“But am I yours, Your Grace?” she asked boldly. “Am I your dream?”
His lashes flickered revealing his black eyes. “You’ve been the leading role in every wet dream I’ve
had since I met you. And believe me, I’ve had many of those these past years.”
“Oh?”
“Indeed. I believe I’m living one out now, right here.”
“Playing chess?” she asked coyly.
“Playing games. Acting out fantasies.” He straightened in his chair and Elizabeth could not help but lower her gaze to see how magnificently aroused he was. “You see, in my mind, I’m going to win this game, Elizabeth, and in winning you, I’m purchasing you for the rest of the day. And in purchasing you, you are mine to command.”
“And what will you have me do?”
“All in good time,” he whispered. His lashes lowered and she saw that his gaze was fixated on her breasts and the nipples that jutted out against her chemise.
“Very well,” she murmured, sitting back on the settee and reclining so that her chemise inched up to give him a glimpse of the lace tops of her stockings. “I believe it is my turn, is it not?”
Elizabeth tried to ignore the way her chemise tightened and pulled over her breasts as she leaned forward to move her rook. The movement caused a strap to slide down her shoulder, baring the swell of her breast. She felt Christian’s black gaze fixated there, on the white flesh. She went to hook her finger around it and slide it up her arm when Christian said rather thickly, “Don’t.” She met his eyes and saw desire burning in them. “I want to see you like this. I want to be teased by that flash of your breast. It makes me want to work so much harder to capture your king. Perhaps, though, after hearing that confession, you may wish to grant me a favor, and show me your breast.”
Her belly tightened and wetness coated her thighs. Slowly, seductively, she lowered one side of her bodice and revealed what he wanted to see. Instantly her nipple hardened, jutting out towards him. Pressing forward, he ran his fingertip over it.
