Lily Mine

by Joseph, Annabel

  By the time he drew her chemise down off her shoulders to bare her to his gaze, she was too transported by his touches to feel the slightest bit of self-consciousness. The nearness of him was intoxicating. The roughness of his cheek, the unfamiliar breadth of his shoulders under her hands. The virile, masculine form of his neck, the warmth of his body, the softness of his velvet coat--all these things combined to captivate her. She wanted to lick and bite the curve of his jaw, to taste his bronze skin, but she was too shy. She was too shy even to stroke him as he was caressing her. At last he released her and urged her toward the bed.

  "Lie down. I want to look at you."

  His deep, controlled voice compelled obedience. Lily turned down the rich satin coverlet and crawled onto the cool linens. She knew he wouldn't wish her to cover herself, so she reclined upon his pillows with her arms trembling at her sides. For long moments he only stood and watched her, her stalwart lord with his fine clothing and rigid stature. His bold regard spawned a strange pressure in her pelvis, an urge demanding satisfaction.

  At last his fingers went to his coat, working the buttons, and he in turn revealed himself to her. The blue velvet surcoat, the tan waistcoat, the cravat and pin, the boots, trousers and braces. He undid the cuffs of his ivory shirt, then the buttons, sliding it down over his shoulders. She had never seen a man in such complete nakedness. If she had, she was certain James would have outshone him a thousandfold. Broad shoulders tapered to a flat, muscular belly. His arms were like works of art. A flick of the wrist and the muscles flexed. Lily felt hypnotized. He stood utterly still a moment and let her look. Fur at the apex of his chest tapered to a trail lower, lower… My God.

  She had not seen Horace's male anatomy when he'd forced himself on her. She saw James now and realized why it had hurt so much. She suppressed rising panic. He said he would not be brutal and she knew he was a man of his word, but... He strode to the bed and sat down beside her, brushing her hair back gently.

  "Nervous?"

  She nodded, unable to force words from her lips.

  "Do not be. I promise you shall enjoy this." His words soothed her somewhat, and then he slid into bed beside her and she forgot everything. He was so warm against her and yet hard like steel. His rod poked against her hip as he moved closer. He traced her shoulders and arms, kneading and caressing. She reached for him, but it was more a protective distancing, an unconscious attempt to ward him off. Her mind trusted, but her body did not. He grasped her wrists and slowly drew her hands over her head. "Let's try to keep them there for now," he whispered next to her ear.

  She made a small sound, of protest or perhaps arousal. He knelt over her, tracing, studying every curve. She lay still with her fingers curled in fists, trying to trust and be open to him. He ran rough fingertips over her nipples and the pressure in her pelvis flared into something even more acute and delicious. He leaned to draw one into his mouth and she moaned at the tingling pleasure. This magic, this tease and touch was nothing like what Horace had done to her. The excitement mounted in waves as he laved her other nipple, then licked down her belly to the flare of her hips. He traced her pelvic bones with a delicate trailing of his tongue. Then lower…lower. It was too much, this intimacy. She panicked and reached down to halt him.

  He sat back at once. "Lily, dearest. Where did I tell you to keep your hands?"

  The quiet authority in his reprimand excited and cowed her at once. "Above my head."

  "Try to obey me. It will go better for you if you do."

  Lily shivered. The way he said It will go better for you sounded like a promise and not a threat. She lifted her hands above her head, never looking away from his magnetic gaze. His intent stare transformed into a warm smile.

  "Good girl. How quickly you learn."

  How quickly I will go mad if…if…if you do not… Lily could barely catch her breath. Her hips lifted on the bed. She wanted him closer, she wanted to be his. She wanted him to possess her, no matter if it hurt, no matter the violence involved. Still his fingers and tongue tortured her with their maddening caresses. He ran his hands down her thighs and parted them wide, wider than Lily thought she could bear. Still he stroked, caressed. She felt her hips arching toward him of their own accord.

  "Please," she heard herself say. "Please, I beg you." He stopped still and contemplated her, his expression intent. She squirmed, trying hard to keep her hands where he'd ordered them.

  "You are killing me," she whispered. "Truly, you are."

  "But I have only begun," he replied with a gleam in his eye. "Do not expire yet."

  He lowered his mouth to her center and she felt his warm tongue draw across the very part of her that ached the most. "Ohhh!" Again his tongue slid across her sensitive flesh, setting off a cascade of heady sensation. Her hands flew to his shoulders in shock. She couldn't bear this teasing pleasure, couldn't believe there was such a thing. He stopped, looking up at her, and she raised her hands again at once.

  "I'm terribly sorry…it is difficult to obey when you… When you…"

  "What did I ask you to do?" His voice was kind and yet unyielding.

  "Keep my hands over my head."

  "You may not understand this completely, but it arouses me when you obey my commands."

  Something in his expression set her heart racing. "I'm sorry. I just…" Her voice trailed off as he rose and then returned to the bed with one of her hair ribbons. He took her wrists and bound them together, not so tightly she couldn't move them, but tightly enough to keep them trapped. He worked intently, without words, while she lay beneath him watching in wonder. He looped the other end of the ribbon about the iron bedframe and tied it with deft skill. She tested the bonds and when she found herself truly caught, Lily's entire body seemed to catch fire. She gazed up at him, mute and desperately aroused, not knowing what to say, how to explain the feelings brought about by what he was doing to her.

  He smiled back at her and leaned to drop a lingering kiss on her forehead. "Yes, I know. It is a little frightening. But this will make it easier for you, won't it?"

  "Y..y..yes…sir," Lily moaned. She was going to die. It was that simple. She was ablaze. She was trapped now, a thrilled victim. He watched her a moment, seeming as fascinated by her reactions as she was with the novel things he was doing to her. He probed her with his fingers, stroked over the aching spot between her thighs.

  "I can tell by your heat here that you do enjoy this." He winked at her. "I think we will suit in these matters very well."

  She made a strangled sound in her throat as she felt her body's wetness in his slick ministrations. Her eyes pleaded with him for something, anything more, but she wouldn't have known what to ask for. She only wanted more, some relief from the need torturing her.

  "I think…sir… I will submit to anything if you will only… If you will only…" It was so frustrating, not knowing the words. She arched her hips up, seeking more contact, and his hands settled on the insides of her thighs, holding her still and open.

  "If I would only take you? Press inside you and fill you? Is that what you need?"

  She swallowed and stared at him, at his coarse language, at his controlled, masterful expression.

  "Ask for it," he prompted in a velvet voice. 'James, I want you to take me.'" When she hesitated, he ran a light fingertip down the center of her quim, stroking her to the edge of sanity. "They are only words, dearest one, and they will please me greatly."

  Lily arched, pulling at her bonds as his finger made another slow foray down between her soaked pussy lips. "James, I want you to take me," she said breathlessly, meaning it from the bottom of her heart.

  With a groan, he parted her legs even farther and leaned over her. He kept her spread wide with his knees as he braced himself on his arms, trapping her beneath him. For a moment, looking up at the powerful prison of his body, at the thick evidence of his arousal poised at her cleft, she lost her nerve. But it was only for a moment. Rather than thrust in her violently as she feared, h
e entered her just a bit with the head of his cock. He watched her, teasing her pussy until her soft pants turned to pleas, wild thoughtless syllables that didn't quite form words. She pulled at her bonds, helpless to draw him closer. He finally silenced her with a kiss, his tongue questing deep, and she opened to him, all of her, her body, her mind, her will.

  Then he took her. She felt him shift forward and felt his hips nudge against hers. He pressed inside, slowly, steadily. There was no searing pain, no rough, jerky thrusts this time. She felt herself expand to accommodate the delicious invasion of his flesh. He slid inside her like a fine, hard stone, like smooth marble, and the fire in her pelvis flared hotter and stronger still. He stopped when he was fully seated, his hips spreading her wide, his cock possessing her more deeply than she imagined possible. She lay beneath him, gasping, pressing against him in kind. He opened his eyes and brushed her hair back, staring down at her, and she knew everything he felt without words.

  You are mine at this moment. I control you completely, but I won't hurt you. This was not Horace's brutal control, not Horace's pain. This was pain like she would die from longing. It was pain like colors too bright or candy too sweet. He rocked in her, once, twice, withdrew and then slid forward again. She felt every increment of movement, every breath at his possession of her. The pressure inside her built with each new stroke and his primal rhythm drove it higher and higher. Her breath quickened and her body tensed. Part of her wondered if she would survive the apex she reached for, but the other part didn't care about anything but finding that release.

  "Yes, yes, my beauty." He urged her on with hoarse whispers as he drove his hips against hers. She arched and felt the pressure become unbearable and then…

  "James!" She cried out as a volatile tide of sensation rolled over her. She felt a release as chaotic and unsettling as any dream she'd ever dreamed. Her channel contracted on his length again and again. She shook with the intensity of pleasure, and he held her close as she shuddered through the last of it. "My God," she sobbed, looking up at him in amazement. "My God, James!"

  "Yes, my precious," he murmured, "I know."

  * * * * *

  The look she gave him was a gift he would treasure forever. He hated to imagine what Horace might have subjected her to, and had worried about her being able to trust him. But she had put her trust in him completely and found such joy and fulfillment. The way she gazed at him…oh, God. As if he had performed a miracle. The only miracle was that he had survived their joining himself.

  How sweet she had been as he tied her, as he introduced her to the pleasures of sensual obedience. He had received many reactions from his lovers over the years when he tried to tie them up and play erotic games. Some rebelled, some went along with it, some giggled the whole time, but he had never received a reaction as affecting as Lily's had been. Her startled gaze, and the way she'd squirmed for relief--

  "My dearest one," he whispered against her cheek. "I am so pleased with you. You brought me such blessed release. Did you enjoy it too?"

  She shifted and realized she was still caught, tethered to the headboard. Only then did sheepish embarrassment creep into her face. "I did. I truly did, but I…I…I never imagined… It was…."

  "I like to play." He kissed her and with some reluctance, set about untying her. "That's all it is, no more, no less. Play to amuse and satisfy one another. Did it distress you when I bound you?"

  "No. It only surprised me a moment. But I wasn't really that distressed."

  "Hmm. I'll have to try harder next time, I suppose," he teased.

  "Try harder to distress me?"

  "Yes. I rather believe you'd enjoy it."

  "How do you know?"

  He smiled down at her, drawing the ribbon from her wrists and trailing it down over her eyes and neck to tickle her nipples. The pink tips tightened into firm peaks before his eyes. "I know because of how you reacted to the things I did to you tonight."

  Free now, she snuggled close to him, burying her head in his chest. "I'm embarrassed."

  "I don't wish you to be. But I suppose a bit of nerves is natural the first time. You'll be a wanton woman soon enough if I get my way."

  He couldn't imagine what he'd do if she refused another encounter… If she went back to the adjoining bedroom and shut him out. No, she wouldn't. She was insinuating herself closer against him, even now. He held her, running his hands over her hips, her buttocks, memorizing each velvet curve. He kissed her again, but she pulled away slightly.

  "How will you distress me? What will you do?"

  "Hmm." He pretended to give the question considerable thought as he stroked her shoulder. "So many possibilities. I might do almost anything to you when you are bound and unable to get away. Perhaps I'll tie you facedown next time and spank your bottom until it's hot and red." Her eyes went wide and she snuggled closer into his caresses. "Or perhaps a few of the best with a riding crop. Have you ever been cropped on the back of your thighs?"

  She shook her head with a soft whimper. Ah, delicious tease. She was loving every moment of this. "Perhaps a girl as naughty as you should feel the sting of a birch switch…hmm. I don't know. I shall have to give it some more thought."

  "You mean, I'll have to wait for it?"

  Precisely so. She was quick. He would make her wait and dread and daydream so that when the moment was finally upon her she would feel nothing but excited desire.

  "I believe tomorrow after dinner would be the best time for this attempt at distressing you. I'm far too tired now, and during the day we both have activities that keep us quite busy. Yes. After dinner, I think."

  "That long?" Her forlorn voice finally wrested a laugh from him.

  "You will survive somehow. Just try not to think about it overmuch, as anxiety will only make it worse. Of course, I will not hurt you. At least not too badly." He squeezed her and she giggled softly. "You're so warm, so lovely. No more sleeping away from me. Will you stay in my bed?"

  He meant for that night. Or perhaps he meant forever.

  "Of course I'll stay," she said. Then she fell silent, and he knew she was thinking the same thing he was. At some point she would be sleeping away from him. At some point, surely, Lilliana would return. She would need money or she would miss her family. If she returned and begged forgiveness and to assume her rightful place, Lily would have to go. When he had first asked Lily to help him, he hadn't imagined how strongly he would come to feel for her.

  Still, he had taken care to protect her future. He had pulled out at his moment of crisis and spilled on the sheets rather than within her. He had no more wish to create a bastard than she probably had to grow heavy with his child. He would take care of her, and that meant leaving her as he'd found her, a bright, wonderful woman with a mind for business and a future surrounded by the flowers she loved so much.

  But he couldn't think of the parting. Not now. Not tonight when he was feeling, for the first time in too long a time, completely at peace.

  * * * * *

  Lily stayed in bed when she woke in the morning, simply lying still and remembering the wonder of the night before. James had already preceded her downstairs. She would rise soon. She just wanted to take a few more moments to enjoy his soft sheets against her cheek, the smell of him in the linens. He had held her all night like a lover. Well, she supposed they were lovers now, but it had been so novel, so unbelievable to find herself at last sleeping in his arms.

  She had fantasized about him for weeks, silly fantasies she recognized now for the innocent, girlish dreams they were. The reality of his lovemaking was a thousand times more intense than anything she'd imagined. It was so far removed from her time on the ground with Horace that the two episodes could barely qualify as the same act. The memory of James holding her, making love to her, made her shiver even now with helpless arousal. His masculine power and control had been both intoxicating and soothing, and nothing like Horace's bumbling brutality. James had put his hands on her and made magic, leaving her f
orever changed.

  The door creaked open and Lily froze, not wanting her reveries to end. She recognized Mrs. Gertrude's humming. A moment later the nosy old woman was leaning over the bed with a broad grin.

  "Oy-ee there, girl! I see the master's right tuckered you out. Good for him. And good for you, I wager," she added with an exaggerated wink.

  "Good morning, Mrs. Gertrude." Lily sat up with a smile, ignoring the fact that the woman's chatter was highly inappropriate. If she were the real Lilliana, a true lady, she would have rebuked her, but Lily was far too happy this day to do any such thing. She just looked back at Mrs. Gertrude with her own wide grin.

  She let Mrs. Gertrude rouse her from the bed and help her wash and dress in her room. The elderly servant combed and smoothed her hair with such careful tenderness, her prattle eventually quieting back to soft, melodic humming. Her gentle fingers nearly soothed Lily back to sleep as she sat at the vanity--that was, until she noticed the hair ribbon from the night before curled neatly beside the hand mirror.

  After that it was difficult to attend to anything Mrs. Gertrude was saying. At last the old woman left with her oversize duster to "see to the housework," although Lily knew the other household staff did the work for the most part. She was still gazing at herself in the mirror, wondering that she didn't look any different, when Hanover cleared his throat at the door.

  Lily turned to him. "Good morning, Mr. Hanover."

  "Good morning, my lady. You may call me Hanover, you know, my lady."

  "And you may call me Lily and not 'my lady,'" she teased. "We've discussed this before."

  He smiled, then cleared his throat again, looking visibly uncomfortable.

  "Yes, indeed, my lady. My lord bids me tell you that he awaits you at breakfast. But if I could take only just…a small moment of your time."

  "Why, certainly. What is it?"

  The tall, slim manservant colored, and seemed to have a terrible time meeting her gaze. "It is only that…for many weeks now I've wanted to thank you for your kindness to…to Mrs. Gertrude. My mother. I know her mind is not all there. She is a nuisance to you sometimes and I'm sorry for it, but you've always been the perfect angel, not chastising her and such."