by Debra Glass
She looked over her work. She’d poured her darkest desires out on those pages and in the process and space of three hours, she’d learned more about herself than she had realized in her lifetime.
She’d also discovered that she was very much in love with her handsome husband.
The knowledge shook her to the core. She took a deep breath and blew it out. Loving James hadn’t happened overnight. No. Now, she saw how careful, how patient he’d been with her. He’d sacrificed his own desires to help her find hers.
Her heart leapt and she placed her hand over it as if she were trying to keep it from bursting out of her chest. She giggled aloud. “I love him,” she whispered, the realization stunning her. “I love my husband.”
Flipping through the pages, she perused what she’d written. She’d taken care to include scenarios where she interacted with him rather than writing scenes where the hero of the story did things to the heroine. Putting the words on paper had liberated her in a way reading and enacting the stories had not.
And while she still entertained fantasies of having control robbed of her, she now wanted to share the pleasures that could be had with her husband.
Eager to apologize for her reticence the night before and to give him her story, Patience gathered the sheaves of foolscap and scurried toward James’s study.
She knocked on the door but there was no reply. A sense of alarm caused her stomach to knot but she forced the unwelcome emotion away. He had stepped out. That was all.
She’d leave her story as a surprise and he’d be back soon to read it. Imagining it inspired her. He couldn’t still be angry with her after he read what she’d written. He just couldn’t.
Heart hammering, she twisted the door handle and stole inside the cold, dark office. There was no fire in the grate. All his correspondence had been neatly tidied by the staff. Patience wondered if he’d been here at all.
She swallowed her trepidation she placed her story on his desk. Where was he? She hugged her arms, rubbing them briskly to dispel the eerie chill that only permeated the air but her heart as well. Something she couldn’t put her finger on was amiss. It was as if her soul detected a change, an absence.
The need to know James’s whereabouts suddenly overwhelmed Patience. She dashed to the door, fearing the worst. What if he’d left her to seek comfort with a mistress? What if he’d gone abroad on an extended trip? Or to one of his other estates?
It might be days or months before she saw him again.
Regret for her actions consumed her. If only she could back her hesitation, her harsh words—her cold rejection.
She darted into the hallway. One of the staff stopped to drop into a low curtsy.
“Hazel,” Patience cried.
The startled maid gaped. “Lady Somerset?”
“Where has Lord Somerset gone?” Patience asked desperately.
“Gone, ma’am?”
Patience resisted the urge to grip the girl by the shoulders. “Has he gone out or…or away?”
“I saw him getting in his carriage at dawn this morning but I’ve no idea where he went, ma’am,” Hazel said.
All the blood drained from Patience’s face. Her head swam. Oh God, no. Her worst fears were true. “Did he say when he’d return?”
“I wasn’t privy to that information ma’am but Mr. Hopkins might know. Would you like me to fetch him for you?”
Naughty, willful…
If only she could turn back the clock. If only…
Patience blinked back tears. “Yes, would you please? Thank you. I’ll be in my room. I’m not feeling well.”
Heartsick, Patience plodded back to her room.
Once inside, she leaned against the closed door and stared unseeing at the ceiling. She had no one to blame but herself. Right now, James was probably in the arms of an experienced mistress. Patience could hardly hold him at fault. She’d pushed him away with both hands.
And for what?
A sob choked in her throat when she recalled the impassioned kiss he’d given her only hours ago. She’d forced him to stop. She squeezed her eyes shut. She did not deserve him. She’d never deserved him or anyone else. Miss Killian had been right about her. She was naughty. She’d lost everyone she’d ever loved because of her rotten behavior.
A knock on the door startled her. Patience whirled and opened the door, hoping to find James.
Instead James’s butler, Mr. Hopkins, stared expectantly.
Patience swiped away a tear and tried to affect some semblance of composure. “Did Lord Somerset say when he would return?”
“No ma’am. He did not.”
She hid her balled fist in the fabric of her gown. “Did he say where he was going?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. He did not.”
“Very well,” Patience said softly. “Thank you.”
He gave her a nod. She closed the door. Her insides hollowed. Just when she realized how much she truly loved James, she’d lost him.
Chapter Seven
Road-weary, James dragged himself into the house. He was surprised to see a nightshirt clad Mr. Hopkins at the door, holding a lamp aloft to light James’s way.
“I didn’t expect you to be about at this late hour,” James said to Hopkins as he handed off his coat and hat to one of the servants.
“I asked the staff to alert me to your arrival,” Hopkins said. He pursed his lips in that way he always did when he was uncomfortable about imparting information. “Lady Somerset seemed quite distraught at your absence.”
James raised an eyebrow. “Distraught, you say?”
Hopkins nodded. “One of the maids saw her leaving your office. I daresay I spoke to Lady Somerset myself. She appeared to have been…crying.”
The thought of her crying caused something inside him to twist. He could abide anything but her tears. “Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention,” James said wearily.
As he began the trek upstairs, he wondered what Patience could possibly have been doing in his office. And then, like a bolt of lightning, knowledge struck. She’d left another book for him.
Guilt swarmed over him as he remembered his declaration from the night before. She was probably terrified he was coming to her room to force her to copulate with him. He sighed. The least he could have done would have been to apologize to her before he left.
It was too late to act on whatever book she’d left him tonight. But curious as to what type scenario she had chosen, he passed his bedroom door and went instead to his office.
* * * * *
Patience flipped onto her other side. Sleeping was out of the question. Her mind raced with worry. This morning, she’d been dreaming she’d be giving her heart, soul and body to her husband at this very moment instead of mourning the loss of his love and respect.
Hopkins hadn’t known where James had gone. That fact alone didn’t bode well for Patience. He’d probably wearied of her antics and had gone abroad. Perhaps he merely intended to send word he would be preparing for an extended stay elsewhere. Her stomach knotted.
“James,” she whispered bleakly into the darkness.
“Get out of bed, Patience.”
The voice startled her so much that she gasped. Heart hammering, she twisted over and peered into the murky shadows.
“Don’t make me tell you again,” James said.
“James!” she cried. Joy flooded her being.
He jerked back the covers, snatched her arm and dragged her from the bed. Patience’s heart ran wild. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, to kiss him with reckless abandon—but suddenly, he wasn’t giving her that choice.
“Take off your nightgown,” he said.
Bewildered, she studied his expression and then suddenly every thing was clear. He’d read what she’d written. The look in his glittering eyes confirmed it.
Her pulse slowed to a thick, steady throb that seemed to beat in her throat. Her mouth went bone dry. Excited and shaking, she dragged up her nightgown a
nd jerked it off over her head.
James’s gaze raked down her body and back up again. Patience couldn’t wait for his hands to caress her the same way his eyes did. She quivered. Something flashed in his expression and then Patience’s eyes dropped to where he rubbed the bulge in his breeches. Her channel clenched maddeningly.
“Kiss me,” he said roughly.
Naked and trembling, Patience took the three steps that closed the distance between them, drinking in the warmth that radiated from his body from her scale to the tips of her toes. The scent of the outdoors and leather wafted in his hair and on his clothes. Where had he been? She wanted so desperately to ask.
Her gaze grazed his and then fell to his slightly parted lips. Rough dark stubble shadowed his jaw. A muscle there twitched and when the tip of his tongue touched his lips, Patience could not resist the urge to kiss him.
Lashes fluttering shut, she tilted her chin up. Seeking his mouth, she pressed her lips to his, timidly at first, but when his hands slid around her waist to her back and he crushed her body against his, Patience’s kiss intensified.
Her heart rioted. She thought she’d lost him and now here he was, holding her, loving her. She clutched his shoulders, fisting her hands in the fine wool of his dress coat. All at once, awareness flooded her. His mouth was warm, wet and tasted of whiskey. His breaths urged his chest against hers, raking her already taut nipples. His hot hands splayed across her back so that she was conscious of every inch of his long fingers on her skin. He pulled her impossibly closer, rocking his hips against hers, leaving her with no doubt to his arousal.
He would be inside her soon. Patience moaned into his mouth. While being punished by him awakened something primal within her, this—this—roused a desperate need inside her she could neither explain nor comprehend. It was as if she could crawl inside his skin with him and become a part of him, as if somehow their souls could unify and become one.
Boldly, she threaded her fingers into his thick, coarse hair and held his head as she plundered his mouth. She moved restlessly against him, wanting him right here, right now.
But she knew that was not to be. Not yet.
Half lifting her off the floor, he dragged her backward to one of the chairs in her sitting area near the hearth.
He shrugged off his dress coat and let it fall to the floor. “Are you cold?” he asked as he sat, pulling her astride his legs.
“No,” she whispered as her lips found his again.
He opened to her mouth and as Patience kissed him her body reacted with a will of its own. Legs spread wide, she rode the ridge in his trousers, bucking her hips in an attempt to quiet the hot lust raging through her body.
His hands sprawled on her thighs, his fingers reaching around to the soft flesh of her bottom. Tearing his mouth from hers, he bore a stare into her eyes. “Before this night is over wife, I will fuck you every and anywhere I please.”
She knew without a doubt he spoke the truth. She’d written the declaration herself but hearing it from his lips caused a shiver to skitter down her spine. She wanted him. Now. Cream gathered in her core and Patience reached for the fastenings on his breeches. Without warning, he caught her hands in his and held them back and wide apart so that her breasts jutted up and toward him.
As his hot mouth closed over one of her nipples, Patience’s head fell back. He was not gentle. Not at all. His teeth raked the sensitive bud. He sucked and flicked his tongue across it, teasing it until it was deliciously sore. And just when Patience thought she would scream from the sheer pleasure of it, he claimed the other one.
Her clitoris burned and her channel ached with the need to be filled. “Please,” she heard herself say. “Please James.”
“Only naughty girls beg to be fucked,” he said, lifting his head from her breast.
She swallowed. Her breaths came in great heaving gasps. Oh yes…
“Fuck me,” she said. “I want you inside me.”
Since putting her fantasy into words, something monumental had changed within her. Her fears had all but vanished. Her heart had opened.
With roguish flair, James arched an eyebrow. “Do you know what happens to naughty girls, Patience?”
She chewed her bottom lip.
“Get off,” he said, urging her off his lap.
Pouting playfully, she gained her feet.
“Bend over my knees,” he said, scooting forward, his searing gaze never leaving hers.
Patience exhaled raggedly as she positioned her body across his thick thighs. Clutching her breasts, she closed her eyes as his palm smoothed over her backside. When his fingers tickled the sensitive flesh between her legs, she jerked. More. Yes, there.
“Spread for me,” he said.
Instantly, she opened her legs, moaning aloud when a finger wriggled between her folds and teased the opening that ached for his invasion.
“Is this where you want my prick?” he asked, he free hand encircling her throat.
She gulped. “Yes.” Instinctively, she pushed back in an unspoken invitation for him to push that finger inside.
One inch. Two. Oh dear God. She whimpered but disappointment flooded her when he withdrew the finger.
“Or is this where you want me?” James asked, prodding her rosebud.
Patience tensed. “I could never…take…you there.”
“Oh, but you can,” he said. “And you will. Tonight.”
She trembled as his fingertip circled the hole. Could she take him there? The women in the books she’d read had seemed to enjoy it.
The finger nudged with gentle insistence. Her opening gave and he slipped inside. Every muscle in her body grew taut.
“Patience,” James said, his hand half caressing, half holding her throat.
Her rim burned but, heedless of her groans, he pushed the finger inside her until she felt his fist against her bottom. Both holes clenched as she adjusted to the pleasure-pain of the invasion.
For what seemed forever, he remained motionless. So did she. His finger was hardly too much for her but what would it be like to have his hard phallus filling and stretching her there?
And just when it seemed like the pain had completely dissipated, he removed his finger and slapped her bum.
Pop!
Her breath caught. A jolt of lightning passed through her body. She squeezed her breasts even harder.
This time, she let out an animalistic moan. Her toes scrambled for a foothold in the carpet and she pushed her bottom higher in the air. She wasn’t disappointed. A third slap landed. This one was harder than the rest. She voiced her approval and braced for another but instead, the finger pushed inside her anus again. This time, he worked it in and out. Each time his fist pounded against her bottom, a breath was forced out of her lungs.
The single finger was no longer enough. She wanted his cock there. She wanted him to pummel her with it the way he was fucking her with his finger. Just when she was on the verge, he stopped and dragged her back up so that she was once more straddling his lap.
Patience did not hesitate. Her fingers flew to his fly and with furious intent she unfastened the row of buttons there. When his cock sprang free she sighed and grasped it in her hand.
James made a mewling sound as Patience worked her hand up and down around his shaft. Clinging to the back of his neck with the other hand, she sought his mouth again. She moved restively against him like a cat begging to be stroked.
“You can punish me all you want,” she whispered against his ear. “I still want your cock inside me.”
Her knees worked to gain leverage on the chair cushion. Her heart hammered. His hands held her loosely. He wasn’t going to help her but rather make her do it all on her own.
He finally shifted ever so slightly and finally, her knee found solid chair. She arched her hips toward him so that the shaft of his cock slid easily between her slippery nether lips.
His fingers which were splayed across the small of her back, tensed as she rode his length up,
up, until the head of his cock was positioned at her opening.
Patience looked at James’s face. Wonder and awe and love sparkled in his dark eyes. She inhaled, letting the perfection of the moment last and linger and then holding his gaze, she lowered herself. A flash of pain caused her to wince but no sooner had it come than it was gone and all that was left was the absolute bliss of feeling him buried to the hilt within her.
At once, her body urged her to move, to ride him, but his hands locked on her hips and he held her in place.
He swallowed hard. “Don’t move,” he said harshly. “Not yet.”
His thumb brushed her cheek and she realized a tear had spilled from one eye. His gaze swept over her face, dropping to where he admired her breasts then lower still to where they were connected before returning to her eyes.
Gathering her in his arms, he stood, lifting her so that she clung with her arms and legs. He walked her to the bed, slipping out of her as he bent to lay her on the mattress. Still holding her gaze, he undressed.
Patience stared. She’d never seen him naked before and the sight of his strong shoulders, his sculpted chest scattered with dark down, his taut abdomen and his jutting cock rendered her speechless. She reached for him, lacing her fingers with his as he joined her on the bed.
Without words, he moved over her, pushing her knees apart with his own as he came down inside her. Patience arched as he filled her once more.
His moans mingled with hers as he began to move. Patience did not need any book to tell her body what to do. Her calves encircled his. Her arms wound around his back, her hands exploring the tensing sinew and musculature of his back and buttocks. Why had she ever feared this? Why had she ever feared her own desire, her love?
Her heart swelled from such joy that she thought it would burst but all coherent thought was driven from her mind when James pushed his shoulders up, braced his knees on the bed and began thrusting into her with unrelenting force.
Patience hooked her ankles behind his thighs and hung on, spreading her own legs wide to give him thorough access. As much as she wanted to watch him, she could not prevent her eyes from closing. Sudden awareness of her husband’s strength washed over her, stunning her. He could have taken her all along. He could have forced this on her. He was certainly strong enough to have done so.
