by Isadora Rose
Esther dared not go near enough to him to try and pull him away from her bed, for the shape of his fully erect cock that was so visible through his breeches made it very apparent that he would simply draw her onto the bed with him instead. Searching desperately for something to say to distract them both from the way he was still staring at her breasts with such undisguised desire, she belatedly recalled her surprise at seeing him stood outside her bedchamber. “W-what are you even doing here still, Comte?”
Tristan lounged casually against the stacked pillows and patted the sheets next to him invitingly. She hastily shook her head as he had expected, but the brief flash of longing that passed across her reddened face spoke more than any denial could. He laughed softly and ran his fingers over the rough stubble colouring his jaw as he thrilled in reliving the feel of her wonderfully soft and full breasts under his hand. How he longed to expose them to his eyes – and he soon would, he was certain of it.
She unwillingly gave a low moan again when his cock visibly twitched against his breeches. “Comte! I believe I asked you a question. What are you doing here?”
Her voice was rapidly rising in pitch, so he took pity upon her. “Here, ma chére? In your bed?”
“No!” Esther’s breath quickened as the Comte slowly drew the pad of his thumb across his lower lip. “Here in Anton and Eleanor’s manor. I thought you would be gone with the others who came to the ball by now!”
Delightful as it was to be in her bed, Tristan wanted the woman herself in his arms far more. He jumped down and strode towards her, backing her up against the wall behind her. “Why would I be gone? Anton and Eleanor invited their daughter’s godparents to stay the week, is that not so?”
Her legs began to shake beneath her as his dark eyes coolly raked over her body. “Y-yes. But what has that to do with you, Comte? Catherine’s godfather is to be an old friend of Eleanor’s husband –“
“Oui.” Tristan’s smile widened triumphantly as he closed the distance between them and she drew a ragged breath. “That is me, Esther. Anton and I have been friends since we were boys in short trousers, as you lovely English would say. So you see, we will both stay here at Fleetwood Hall until the christening; and before the week is out, I will have you.”
She was frozen in shock, too slow to evade his hand as it shot out towards her and closed around her wrist. Tristan grazed his lips against hers as she drew a shuddering gasp of air. “Is that not so, Esther?” he prompted her gently as he began to guide her small hand back to his cock again. “You want this – you want me. You will not be able to defy the passion we share all week, I know that to be a certainty.”
Esther was bitterly afraid that if she did not break away from him that very moment, his ominous words would be proved right. She forced herself to show no hint of her body’s wild reaction to his, instead staring blankly over his shoulder even as he lowered his head in search of her lips again. “Comte…”
“Yes, darling?”
She stiffened as he forced his hand between their bodies to reach for the neckline of her gown again and finish what he had started. “Get out, Comte, before I scream.”
Tristan’s eyes locked onto hers. “But Esther, I want to make you scream. I would have you scream out my name as you come so hard underneath me that the very breath leaves your body.”
The darkly erotic image of her doing just that held them both in its spell. Tears filled Esther’s eyes as her body fought for control over her mind, urging her to beg the Comte to take her; but she could not have him, not after what he had done to Charlotte. He did not deserve her. “N-no, Comte!”
Her rasping cry frustrated him deeply, for he had anticipated that his daring words had won him the permission he craved. “Very well,” he ground out. “I can wait if I must. You, Esther, are worth waiting for.”
“And you, Comte, are insufferable!”
“Oh, you could suffer me to be in your bed, chérie, I assure you that!”
Her eyes widened and filled with lust once more, but she forced herself to shake her head. “Out!”
With a loud burst of laughter born of his renewed conviction that she would soon be his, Tristan swooped in to deliver a swift kiss to Esther’s forehead before retreating from the chamber to bide his time.
Chapter Four
“Ah, so this is where you have been hiding.”
Esther’s head snapped up from the book she had been attempting to distract herself with, the instinctive arching of her body like a tautened bowstring announcing the intruder’s identity even if she had not recognised the Comte’s voice. She gritted her teeth and dropped her eyes in a desperate attempt to conceal the desire that she knew was written in them. “I – I was not hiding.”
“Liar.” With an amused smile, Tristan locked the library door behind him and deliberately dropped the key into the pocket of his breeches. He had come to the conclusion whilst searching for her that she needed to be forcibly persuaded of the strength of their passion – and he knew just how to do it. “I have been looking for you ever since you slipped away from luncheon whilst Eleanor kept me distracted, my wicked little lady. This is where you have been, then? An excellent choice, chérie. I congratulate you.”
The book fell from her hands with a loud thud as he casually unfastened his starched cravat and tossed it aside. Her breath was already coming in shallow gasps even before Tristan’s deft fingers moved to fly across the buttons of the white shirt that was such a devastating contrast to his tanned skin.
“Ch-choice, Comte?”
Abandoning all attempts at aloofness, Esther pushed back in her chair and wrapped her arms defensively across her breasts as he strode towards her.
His cock was already stiff and straining for its release as he slowly knelt down in front of her and tore her arms away. “Of location for our first tryst, Esther. Why, I hardly know where we should begin – in front of the fireplace, perhaps? Alternatively, both the writing desk and the high-backed chair behind it offer ample possibilities, as does that luxurious chaise stretching out by the window –“
She cut his suggestive words short by pushing him aside and dashing towards the door, knowing even as she did that her flight was pointless when the Comte had taken the key. “Release me, sir!” she demanded hotly as he pursued her and snatched her into the tight and possessive restraint of his arms.
“Not without a kiss, ma chére,” Tristan said firmly as he pressed his lips against the pulse point of her throat to revel in the way that it was flickering so wildly through the skin and betraying the strength of her arousal.
“Stop it, Comte...” Esther warned him heatedly, but as she writhed against him in her efforts to break free, his cock pushed up against the soft curve of her stomach and instantly stilled her fight.
He groaned under his breath as she tilted her head back and gazed up at him with undisguised yet fearful lust and hunger. “Ah, you feel how much I want you? Good. I have waited, as I said I would –“
“For five hours!” Despite herself, the corners of Esther’s lips drew back into a small and reluctant smile as the Comte lifted one slender eyebrow.
“Five long, torturous hours, Esther. Am I to have my prize, now?”
“Prize?”
“A kiss, Esther. I crave your kiss – I must have another kiss from you!”
“J-just a kiss?” She bit on her lower lip uncertainly, for the thought of submitting to his demand again was strangely appealing, much to her chagrin.
“Just one kiss, belle. One kiss and then if you want me to leave you alone, I will.”
His murmured promise sealed it for her. Esther sighed in supplication and tried to pretend that she did not want the imminent kiss as much as she did, forcing her eyes to harden as she jerked her head and stretched up towards him.
Tristan held nothing back. He took hold of her head in both his hands, cupping her face as his fingers traced its delicate contours before, with a rush of burning desire, his lips slammed down onto hers.
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She wound her hands through his hair and pressed herself into the heat of his hard muscles, swept away on the tide of keening desire that the touch of his lips on hers captured her with once more. Each thrust of his tongue and caress of his lips only seemed to heighten her arousal further, coaxing and teasing her into a highly-strung knot of tension that Esther knew only the thrill of his cock buried deeply inside her could relieve.
She tasted just as good as he remembered; and somehow, the honeyed taste of her upon his mouth was intoxicating, stealing away all of his self-control and filling him only with the compulsion to make her his in every way.
Tristan deepened the kiss when he realised that Esther had no intention of pulling away from him, running one hand down the curve of her spine before settling it in the small of her back and pressing her hips into his as he deliberately ground his cock against the heat of her body, able to feel it rising from her soft skin in tangible waves despite the clothing that still separated them.
She cried out into his mouth, helpless to do anything but respond to his passion in like, rocking her hips against him in simulation of that which they both knew would come. When he lifted his mouth away from hers to eagerly begin to undress her, though, her senses returned to her with a dizzying rush.
Forced by necessity to lean against him still due to the violent trembling of her legs, Esther twisted her head away from his as she shook it desperately and tried to push against his broad chest. “Y-you have had your damned kiss now, Comte, and more. Why, then, are you showing no signs of letting me go?”
He was breathing heavily, but he still refused to relinquish his hold on her, not when he could see the force of the arousal his kiss had caused in her and not when he sensed she was so very near to giving herself to him in every way. “Because I said I would only leave you alone if you wanted me to. Clearly, you do not.”
His smug, triumphant smile infuriated her, only increasing the rage she felt with herself for being so wholly unable to resist him. ”I do!” she insisted hotly. “I do not want you, Comte. I do not want any man. Men only bring heartache and pain –“
His smile faded away. “Mon dieu! I am not asking you to love me, ma belle. I am telling you to fuck me!” he growled, silencing her rant before she could work up a head of steam. Tristan wanted her fire directed into having passionate sex with him, not wasted in arguing with him instead.
Bitter tears stung at her eyes as she cursed the fact that it was this glorious man out of all the thousands she had ever met who was the one she should not have. “But my cousin –“
“Damn your cousin to hell, for all I care!”
“And that is precisely what you did, Comte, with your reckless seduction!”
To be the focus of Esther’s acerbic rage angered him in a way that Tristan could not comprehend. He slammed her back up against the wall and hooked his arms underneath her to lift her off her feet as she struggled against him. “Forget Charlotte Tennyson! Forget them all, forget everyone but me!”
The Comte’s snarled words did not frighten her anywhere near as much as they should – for what he commanded was precisely what she longed to be able to do.
He delivered another impassioned kiss to the soft lips that were parted in confusion, not releasing his claim on them until he had drawn another loud, pained moan from her. “You see how good we could be?! And no one else need know, Esther – we can keep these stolen moments of passion to ourselves. Once the christening is done we will part ways again and nobody will be any the wiser. Ma belle, why deprive yourself of the pleasure you know that I can give to you?”
Tristan hammered one clenched fist into the carved wooden panels of the wall behind her as still she hesitated. He craved her, yearned for her with every fibre of his being, and every moment that she held out against him was a fresh moment of agony.
Esther stared wordlessly into his darkened eyes, awestruck by the force of the lust she saw there. For a breathless moment, the world stood still; and then, in the space of a heartbeat, her defences came crashing down.
The halting nod of her head was all that he needed. His arousal soared as he set her back on her feet and reached down with a shaking hand to snatch up the hems of her dress and petticoats. “Esther, darling, I shall give you such pleasure!” he swore hoarsely, fighting as hard as he could against the urge to simply throw her down upon the plush carpet and drive his cock into her there and then. “I want you so very much, chérie; so much! Yet even more than that, I want to give you pleasure.”
She was fighting for breath already, unable to speak any words past the lump constricting her throat, but she nodded urgently again as the sensation of the Comte’s fingers running over her stocking-clad legs smashed through the last lingering wits she had been clinging onto. “Oh, please!” Esther managed to beg, throwing her head back and shuddering as his hands reached the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs.
“More? You need more?”
“Yes!”
Her rasping cry thrilled him deeply. “Then tell me, Esther, tell me what you want!”
All reticence was forgotten. “You – I want you inside me, Comte. I need you!”
The incoherent groan that erupted from the back of his throat was wordless yet spoke of the sweetest and most ancient of yearnings, loaded with lust and desperate hunger as his fingers finally sought further, pushing aside the thin layer of undergarments that defended her against him.
Esther panted for breath, rocking against him as he lightly brushed against her swollen clitoris with the tip of his forefinger. “Comte, you are tormenting me! If you are so determined to make me have you, then you will give me your all!”
“Oh, I will, Esther – I will!”
She was already hot and wet against him, achingly ready for all that he yearned to give to her. First, though, Tristan was determined to make her come for him, here in the library where anyone could hear them. He lowered his head to capture her ear between his lips as he continued to gently tease her clitoris with long, languid strokes of his forefinger. “Is that good, belle?”
To her fearful astonishment, her climax was already beginning to build in her core. She shuddered wildly as he stretched out his second finger to caress her entrance as, without warning, he rolled her clitoris between his thumb and finger.
“I asked you a question, Esther.” He had lowered his voice, now merely breathing his words into her ear as the stubble on his face rubbed against her cheek. “Does that feel good for you?”
Esther buried her face in his shoulder and breathed in deeply, allowing his musky and intensely masculine scent to cloud her judgement and carry her away. “Yes, but…”
“But what, chére?”
“More,” she demanded breathlessly. “More, Comte!”
She fisted his unbuttoned shirt, shuddering against him again with a mewling cry as his fingers finally thrust deeply inside her. Triumph exploded inside him as the heat of her tight muscles gripped him, slick and warm around his fingers as he began to skilfully manipulate her clitoris, alternating the speed and force of the intimate caress even as he stroked the inside of her walls in search of the sweet spot he knew could be found.
When she arched and unleashed a loud, ecstatic moan, Tristan knew that he had found it and increased the speed of his ministrations, roughly pinching her clitoris and lowering his head to kiss her hair. “There, Esther? There?”
“Yes! Oh, God, yes!”
Her piercing cry echoed around the library’s high ceiling as she lurched, stiffened and then slumped against him, sobbing out her pleasure and muffling the sounds of her explosive climax in the Comte’s shoulder. Her legs had given way underneath her entirely as wave of wave of pleasure crashed through and inflamed her body in a way that she had not felt for so very long; and in that moment, Esther could have sworn that the climax he gave to her was by far the sweetest she had ever experienced.
Her body jerked uncontrollably as Tristan pulled his fingers out to wrap both arms
around her, holding her up and covering her flushed face in impassioned kisses the moment that she lifted her head from his shoulder. “Ah, darling, how very beautiful you are!”
The Comte’s low, wondrous whisper was as much of a thrill as the forceful climax his touch had delivered to her. Esther twisted and accepted both his possessive hold and the touch of his shaking hands upon her breasts, roughly caressing them as their bodies moulded together and he lowered his head towards hers again.
“I am going to have you now, belle. This first time for us will be fast and rough, for I need you too much to waste any time on tenderness.” His hot breath on the back of her throat sent another shiver through her still inflamed body as she nodded urgently, the mingled threat and promise of his words a deep-seated thrill.
“May I undress you then, Comte?” Esther turned in his arms and hooked her own arms around his neck. She threw her head back as he instantly began to blaze a line of frantic kisses along the curve of her throat.
“Ah, you English are wonderfully polite even at the height of your passion, ma chére!” Briefly ceasing his attentions to her, Tristan pulled back and unleashed a low ripple of laughter. “Yes, Esther, of course you may undress me – I fully anticipate that I shall glory in you doing so!”
No sooner had her hands eagerly gone to the waistband of his tight breeches, though, than the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside froze them both where they stood. “Esther?” Lady Eleanor’s call floated towards them as she tried the door handle only to find it locked. “Esther, are you in there still?”
Tristan groaned as he wrapped his arms around Esther and stole another impassioned kiss before breaking away with a heartfelt curse. “Damn it – ah, God damn it!”
“I – I should open the door before she grows concerned,” Esther whispered reluctantly, even though the idea of leaving the Comte’s arms was now near unimaginable. He nodded grimly, his jaw clenched.
