Dark Fancy

by York, Sabrina

She blanched at the word. Not the word itself so much as the way he said it. As though he was hungry for it and couldn’t eat it.

  “Did he despoil you?”

  “That is none of your business.”

  “I think it is. I think it very much is. Did he take you?”

  She looked away and whispered, “Yes.”

  “Fuck.” This fuck was very different. Spat out like a bitter brew.

  She stood. “I’m leaving.”

  “No. You’re not.”

  She ignored him, scampered for the door and flung it open.

  A great force wrenched it from her grip and slammed it shut. Big hands grasped her and spun her around. He barricaded her with his body, looming and hot.

  “Let me go.”

  “No. We’re staying here.”

  She fought him, kicking and flailing as he lifted her and carried her to the bed as though she were a wisp of thistledown. He sat on the velvet coverlet with her on his lap and confined her with muscular arms as she fought to break free.

  “Edward, don’t do this.”

  “Stop squirming.”

  “Please don’t do this.”

  “Be still. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “I want to leave.”

  “We can’t leave. We’re waiting for someone.”

  Helena froze. A cold chill crept over her skin. “Who?”

  “I said quit moving.”

  “I’m not moving.”

  “You are. Pressing against my—ahem—lap.”

  She tightened every muscle. Held her breath. But she couldn’t maintain that stillness for long. “Who are we waiting for?”

  “For whom are we waiting?”

  She whirled around to glare at him, so she saw his grimace. For she’d wriggled again. On his lap. His fingers tightened on her. “Damn it, Edward, tell me.”

  “Darlington.”

  The bottom dropped out of her world. Fury and fear and pain whipped through her. Darlington! “You lured me here to deliver me to Darlington?”

  He only winced a tiny bit at the vitriol in her voice. Clearly her rage meant nothing to him. “Did I not mention we were friends?”

  “You did not.”

  “He told me his bride went missing. I was obliged to help.”

  “You bastard.” Tears collected on her lashes. After all she’d gone through to avoid marriage to the old goat, after everything she’d sacrificed. After the heartache James had caused her at his betrayal. After the broken heart and the lost virginity and the blisters on her feet and everything—the end result would be the same. Married to a cold-hearted, avaricious, ancient lord who only wanted her for the property that came with her.

  “Come now, Helena. Don’t cry. It’s not all that bad.”

  “It is. You have no idea. But do you know what’s worse?”

  “What?” His lips twitched with humor, which infuriated her even more.

  “I liked you. And you betrayed me.”

  He paled. His throat worked.

  Helena took advantage of his befuddlement and elbowed him in the gut. He let out an “oof” and his grip loosened. She jerked free.

  “Oh no you don’t,” he gasped, grasping for her skirts.

  Oh blast. He caught her hem, tugged. She yanked it free and flew to the door.

  He followed. His legs were leagues longer so he reached it before her. He wrapped her in his arms and held her close so she couldn’t elbow him again.

  So she used her knee.

  Whatever she struck must have been very tender, for he let her go and fell to his knees. Unfortunately, he was on the side of the door that opened so, though he was powerless before her, gasping and wheezing, she couldn’t escape.

  “You’re going to pay for that, my dear,” he said, in a sinister tone when he’d recovered himself.

  “Edward—”

  “I think it’s time for you to call me Sir.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because, Helena, it appears you’re going to get your spanking after all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  James flung himself from his horse and flew up the grand entrance of Madame Chantilly’s, taking the steps two at a time. He burst into the foyer and pounded up the curved staircase and down the east wing until he came to the private suites.

  To Moncrieff’s suite.

  He shouldered his way through the door and stopped short. The vision of Helena draped over Moncrieff’s lap nearly brought him to his knees. The sound of each slap and her responding cries echoed through the room. Rage that another man was touching her so intimately—smacking his big hand over the globes of her ass—rocked him.

  But there was also lust. Howling, snarling lust. Because when she looked up and saw him, when she whispered “James” and quivered and came, he saw it, there in her eyes.

  She loved it.

  Something feral rose within him. He stormed over to the bed and planted his fist in Edward’s face. He caught Helena as she tumbled off his lap. He yanked her up, against him. Where she fucking belonged.

  “Are you all right?” He cupped her cheek, raked her hair out of her face, thumbed at her tears.

  Goddamn Edward. He’d made her cry. He glared at the insensate lump on the bed.

  “Y-yes,” she sobbed. “B-but, James, what are you doing here?”

  He kissed her. He couldn’t not. Her lips were parted and damp. Her expression was soft and weepy and dewy. She looked like a woman who desperately needed to be fucked.

  His cock surged.

  Moncrieff moaned. James forced down the urge to hit him again. What the fuck had he been thinking? What had they been thinking? If he hadn’t been so damn drunk last night, he would have known better than to even joke about letting Edward bring her here.

  His Helena. She was innocent. Naive.

  This place was a bacchanal on a slow day.

  “Damn.” Moncrieff struggled up and rubbed at his swollen cheek. “Why did you hit me, Darlington? That wasn’t part of the plan.”

  Helena stilled. She tipped up her chin and stared at him. “Why did he call you Darlington?” James watched helplessly as horror crept across her features. And then, “What plan? What is he talking about?” An ache curled in his gut when she pushed away, out of his grasp. “What is going on here?”

  “Moncrieff, I could kill you.”

  Edward stood and chuckled. “Think about it, Darlington. Don’t you have her just where you want her?”

  “Why does he keep calling you Darlington? And what plan are you talking about?”

  “Why, the plan where he rescues you from the evil duke and wins your adoration, naturally.”

  “You need to leave.” James knew he was snarling but couldn’t help it. If Moncrieff didn’t remove himself, he was afraid he would murder him. That would definitely ruin their friendship.

  “I beg your pardon. These are my rooms.”

  “Go.”

  Edward studied them both then blew out a breath and, with a cheeky grin, disappeared into the hallway, no doubt in search of a willing wench to tame the beast that spanking Helena had aroused.

  He had the good grace to close the door.

  James glanced at Helena and winced. Fear and panic churned in his gut. The look she shot him was like acid in his blood.

  She stepped away. Farther from him. He hated the distance growing between them, “You’re Darlington.” Not a question.

  “I am.”

  Her brow crinkled. “How can that be? Darlington is old and fat.”

  “That was my uncle.” He took a chance and stepped closer. She didn’t back away. “I am your betrothed, Helena.”

  Her mouth opened then closed again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell Eloise you mean? I didn’t know I was your despised lord until I was called to Trueglove and I saw a portrait of your mother. I didn’t realize you were my Helena. By the time I returned, you were gone.”

  “Did you plot to have him kidnap me so you coul
d rescue me?”

  “I was drunk.” He grimaced. “It was Moncrieff whiskey, Helena. That brew is lethal.”

  “Really, James.” She crossed her arms.

  “I didn’t think he’d actually do it, for God’s sake. When I got the note that you were here, I nearly died. Darling. You’re shaking. Did he hurt you? If he hurt you, I’ll throttle him.”

  Her eyes met his, wide and limpid. Was that a tiny smile? She put her hands to her backside. “My bottom is sore.”

  Passion lashed him. He had no business lusting after her right now. Right now was a time for conciliation, making amends.

  His cock did not cooperate.

  It was probably the insistent vision of Helena draped over Moncrieff’s lap goading him. He couldn’t bear the thought that Edward had spanked her first. Really spanked her. Draped her over his lap and paddled that lush behind until it was rosy and ready—

  Surely there was another first waiting for James to claim.

  He set his teeth. “You shouldn’t have run away.”

  “I had to.”

  “I nearly went mad with worry.”

  “You lied to me.”

  Oh. She shouldn’t be so defiant. Not when he was in this mood. “You lied to me.”

  “I did not.”

  “Didn’t you, Eloise?”

  She flushed. “That was necessary. You lied to me to seduce me.” She paled as a new realization flickered across her face. “You didn’t know I was your betrothed, and you seduced me.” She began to pace, which made the predator in him awake. He tracked every move. “You had only just become engaged and you seduced another woman. What kind of man does that?”

  His dander rose. “What kind of woman allows a degenerate like Edward Moncrieff to bring her to a house of ill repute and spank her?”

  She sniffed. “They have excellent pork pie.”

  “And you liked it. I could tell you liked it.” He raked his hair. He knew it stood on end in short prickles. He didn’t care. He was feeling rather prickly at the moment.

  “I didn’t want to like it. I don’t know why I liked it.”

  “But you did.”

  She shot him a look from beneath lowered lashes. “I did.”

  Something primal snarled through him. He caught her around the waist. She wriggled in his embrace and he held her tighter. “I think you need a real spanking.”

  Her breath bubbled out in a gasp. “A-a real spanking?”

  “Yes.” He towed her to the bed. “Right now.”

  “Please, James—”

  “Oh, I’ll please you. You’ve been a naughty, naughty girl, but I’ll please you.” He sat on the bed and pulled her between his knees. “Turn around.”

  She shuddered but complied, presenting him with her back. Her trembling aroused him further. His cock, already hard, began to throb in tandem with every beat of his heart.

  “Pull up your skirts.”

  She whimpered, but she did it.

  Her ass was a masterpiece. Heat slashed through him at the sight of her perfect bottom, still red and glowing from the spanking another man had given her. He longed to take hold and squeeze, ached to cover those handprints with his own, obliterate them. He didn’t. There was time for that later.

  But he did stroke her. Couldn’t help himself. Ran his palms over those hot globes. She winced.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I like my meat tender.”

  She flinched.

  He reached around and found her pussy. Nudged at her clitoris. It was hard, tight. He couldn’t resist sliding deeper, to find the mouth of her cunt.

  “You’re wet.” An accusation.

  “Y-yes. Please.”

  She whimpered again when he pulled away.

  He spun her around, yanked down the bodice of her dress then yanked at her chemise as well, ignoring the ominous rip. Her breasts spilled out and he captured them, weighed them. Guided them to his mouth. She leaned in, cooing and sighing as he sucked at a nipple, and then the other. When he took them between a thumb and forefinger and pinched in an alternating pattern, she moaned and clutched his shoulders.

  He stopped. “Did I say you could drop your skirts?”

  She paled and then hurriedly gathered them up once again. He noticed it was not only the back that rose. He pulled her close again and suckled her nipple as he plucked her clitoris. This, he continued until she was gasping, mewling.

  He sat back and met her gaze. There were tears on her lashes. “Now, Helena, I am going to give you a real spanking. Drape yourself over my lap.”

  “James—”

  “Now.”

  “But James—”

  “Helena, I’m not terribly patient right now.”

  She nibbled at her lip but bent over his lap, holding her skirts up around her waist. Her slit was hot and damp against his thigh. As she settled herself, she brushed against his cock. It was all he could do to keep from rubbing it against her hip. But then the sight of her ass, red and displayed so prettily, distracted him.

  He couldn’t resist the squeeze he’d been craving.

  She sighed. And then she cried out as his hand came down.

  Ah. Bliss. Her ass was so plump and pliable. He loved the sight of his handprint rising on it. His mark. He added another and another. She wailed and moaned as he paddled her, squirming on his lap, scraping against his cock, his sanity, driving him into a greater frenzy.

  “You like this, don’t you?” he growled.

  “Yes, James, yes.” She squirmed more and lifted her skirts higher.

  “You ass is so red. So beautiful.” He let his palm drift over her quivering cheeks, then slip lower.

  She was drenched.

  Unable to help himself, he slid his fingers into her cunt.

  She came around him, quaking and lurching and howling.

  It nearly undid him. Her heat, her tremors, the smooth gush of her cream.

  He had to be in her. Now.

  He pulled her up so he could devour her mouth. As he kissed her, ravaged her, he pressed her onto the bed. Her legs spread for him, as though it was their nature to do so.

  Unfastening his pants took much longer than he could bear but finally he had all the buttons undone and his cock in his fist. He covered her. Mounted her. Like a beast in heat.

  “Do you want it?” he asked, although the question was highly rhetorical. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

  “Yes.” Her response was feral, a low growl. She clutched at his ass and pulled him closer.

  He nearly came when the head of his cock brushed her velvet entrance, but James gritted his teeth and forced his blinding need back down.

  Not yet.

  Not yet.

  His heart stuttered as he slipped in.

  She moaned and clenched him in a hellish embrace. He thrust in, hard and hot, one manic plunge. Ecstasy shivered up his spine. The bliss of her caress was excruciating.

  “James,” she panted. “Yes.”

  “You are mine, Helena.” He pulled out and surged in again.

  “Yes.”

  “No other man can have you.”

  “No, James.”

  Another thrust, and another. A pressure began at the base of his balls, snaked up his cock. Everything tightened unbearably. James knew he was an instant away from a mind-numbing explosion but he couldn’t finish. Not yet.

  He bent his head and suckled her breasts, slipped a hand between their bodies and found her fat nubbin. As he stroked faster and faster, she planted her feet on the bed and thrust her hips at him.

  This new position allowed him to sink deeper. He kissed her womb. And insanity descended.

  James had always imagined that he would have a wife, as most men of his class did. A prim, demure lady whose purpose was to quietly produce an heir or two. His mistress would be where he vented his passion, his dark desires, his unholy lust.

  But somehow Helena had become both of those women. He wanted her i
n every way.

  This, he had never expected. Along with the gouging emotion, the aching painful love that filled his heart.

  So as he plowed into her welcoming cunt like a snarling animal fucking its mate, his conscience nagged at him to be gentle with her. But it was a fading voice, drowned out by her cries and gasps and moans of pleasure. And then he ceased to hear anything through the pounding in his ears.

  Because she came. Gloriously, exquisitely, intensely, she came.

  Thrashing and wailing and clutching at him, she devolved into a mindless creature. He loved the score of her nails as she drove them into his ass cheeks. He loved the puffs of her frantic breaths on his neck, the way she put her mouth to his nipple and sucked, nipped, bit as the passion took her.

  He loved her.

  Her frantic passion stoked his. Higher and higher he climbed, closer and closer to a looming calamity. His thrusts became shorter, harder, ever more frantic. His muscles constricted until he was nothing but a tight ball of need, pistoning in and out of a clutching cavern. Plunging into the depths of her soul.

  Delirium ravaged him.

  He stiffened. Cried out. Wept as that tight ball exploded, expanded, consumed him. Destroyed him.

  His come was hot and spewed from him in snarling waves of agony. Again and again and again. He filled her cunt with it, flooded her womb.

  In the whole of his life, it was singularly the most satisfying moment.

  She was his. He’d marked her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was a long while before Helena could move, could think, could breathe normally again. She’d never known, never imagined something like this was possible. She peeped at James through her lashes and her heart lurched. He was so handsome, lying there beside her, his eyes closed tight, chest heaving like a bellows.

  That their passion had moved him so was thrilling beyond description.

  She was still angry with him, of course. He had lied to her about being a gardener. It was tremendously annoying that he had seduced her not knowing she was his bride.

  How many other women had he seduced in such fashion? How many other women would he bend over his knee and spank in the future?

  She knew her jealousy was irrational. He was a lord of the land after all. They did as they liked.