2Rakehell

by Debra Glass

  His kiss deepened with dark need that fueled her already out-of-control arousal. He moved beneath her, pumping into her, his groin creating erotic friction against her too-sensitive clitoris. Inside his steely flesh stroked needy tissue, awakening secret places within that filled her with the knowledge she’d never again be the same.

  This one morning had irrevocably changed her.

  She’d thought she could copulate with him to produce an heir and walk merrily away.

  She’d never before been so woefully wrong.

  As she rode him and kissed him she knew she’d do everything in her power to keep him at Scarborough Hall.

  Everything.

  Chapter Five

  Adam’s fingers dug into her nape. He’d given up control the moment she’d kissed him but by God he wasn’t about to stop now. She felt too good inside. Too hot. And she’d been too damn responsive to being dominated.

  Already scenarios for future sessions played out in his head. Primrose bound and blindfolded. Primrose on her hands and knees with that lovely bum turned up and ready to accept his cock.

  Primrose on display for all to see at the club…

  A reprimanding voice crept up from the back of his brain, reminding him that he treaded dangerous waters with his wife. At the club she would be required to submit to the dungeon Master of the evening for her initiation. Adam willed the conflicting emotions away. Finally he tore his mouth from hers, seized her hips in his hands and bounced her rhythmically on his cock. Warm, wet flesh sucked at his erection. Her breasts bobbed, begging for attention he had yet to give them. Tight, short breaths fragrant with peppermint blew against his face. Her soft moans caressed his ears.

  With her eyes squeezed shut she looked stunningly beautiful. Her forehead crinkled and the adorable way she had her bottom lip drawn between her teeth struck him as innocuously innocent.

  A sudden shudder tore through her. Her lips parted and her chin dropped and then she cried out as her sheath spasmed around him. Unable to tear his gaze from her face he watched in abject awe.

  The realization he’d given her this pleasure filled him with a sense of power and wonder he hadn’t felt in years.

  One-night trysts with any comely willing woman had jaded him. Giggling and laughing, they’d bawdily gone along with his need to dominate, to please them beyond anything they’d previously known. And with them—those faceless bodies—he’d always withdrawn and spent his issue on their bellies or arses. Not with Primrose. In spite of his promise to sire a child in her he couldn’t have pulled out if he’d wanted to.

  Her eyes opened and her passion-clouded gaze locked with his and held.

  His own orgasm gripped him without warning. Everything inside him tightened until he felt he’d snap and then pleasure detonated, exploding through his limbs, his torso—his cock—as blessed rapture razed him deep in the sweet confines of his wife’s body.

  When the last tendril of ecstasy subsided he thumbed her hair back. Logic told him to get up and go back to his room. His emotions were too raw to risk letting her get any closer than she already had.

  But when she laid her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly against his neck while his waning arousal still throbbed inside her, he couldn’t force her away. He stroked the silken strands of her honey-colored hair before he gathered her in his arms, stood and then carried her to the bed.

  “I should be getting dressed. I have a million things to do,” she began.

  Ignoring her protest, he began unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m not through with you yet.”

  * * * * *

  Primrose regarded her sleeping husband. She should have risen long ago but after he’d taken her twice more, she’d been so physically sated and drained she’d been reluctant to do anything but doze in his arms. He’d fallen asleep immediately and while their encounter had left her exhausted, she couldn’t allow herself to surrender to fatigue.

  Myriad emotions nibbled at her, the foremost of which was fear. She harbored no illusions about her husband. Common sense prevailed. When he tired of her he’d leave again. It was a punishment she’d have to endure in order to gain the child she so desperately wanted.

  Adam would eventually go back to the dens, to those women. Primrose harbored no illusions about that. But a child… His child… Fulfilling the earl’s last request was easy for her because at least she would have a part of Adam. At least they would share a child.

  Even if he stayed she realized that he, like all men, would tire of home life and seek pleasure elsewhere. While that hadn’t concerned her before, the idea of Adam in the arms of another woman made her feel sick inside now.

  The shadows lengthened in the room, making her wonder how long she’d lain here. It seemed sinful, being abed for the better part of a day. But Primrose could not bring herself to rise, to don clothes.

  She’d never been naked for so long a time in her life and some until-now-unacknowledged part of her…liked it. She enjoyed the feel of the sheets on her bare legs, her belly. She’d luxuriated in the air caressing her nude flesh when she’d stripped for Adam. And his hands. Oh his hands.

  He touched her with a certainty that evidenced vast experience. And while a spark of jealousy flared in her at the idea of him being intimate with other women, another element of her offered herself up like a sacrificial lamb to his inordinately skilled hands.

  She’d never imagined how coupling could involve both the mind and body. Prior to today, she’d assumed only the flesh was concerned. But trepidation—sheer not knowing what he’d do next—lust and carnal sensation had rendered her his willing slave.

  In spite of it all guilt gnawed at her. She needed to get out of bed, to dress, to attend to household matters.

  Biting her bottom lip, she inched toward the edge of the bed, hoping not to wake Adam.

  She failed.

  His eyes opened and focused on her before turning feral. Her stomach tightened when he scooped an arm around her and dragged her to him.

  “Where are you going?” he asked roughly.

  “I’ve no idea what time it is. There is so much I must—”

  He grunted. “Do you want to rise?”

  Stricken, she debated. “I have to…”

  His eyes searched hers, opening her to him, laying bare her soul. It was too penetrating. Too exposing.

  His amber irises turned a rich shade of mahogany. “I did not give you permission to leave this bed.”

  Primrose’s pulse rioted. Every instinct she possessed screamed at her to resist his dominance. Deeper than that, her body begged for it.

  He must have seen her indecision. “As your Master I forbid it. Therefore you must obey.”

  Involuntarily she arched as his palm skimmed down her belly, as his fingers sought her folds.

  “Are you sore?” he asked.

  Even as her legs opened to admit his hand, she gave him an almost imperceptible nod. He let out a rough chuckle and continued to stroke her, moving his fingers over her clitoris until it hardened to his touch.

  A growl tore from his throat and he ripped back the covers, baring her body for his viewing. “Put your hands against the headboard and don’t move them,” he commanded.

  Without so much as considering resistance she obeyed. Pleasure began a slow build inside her, swirling upward from where his fingers worked their magic.

  His mouth captured one of her breasts and he eyed her as he lightly raked his teeth along the nipple. Primrose’s breathing hitched as he gave her a little bite. His lips moved to the other breast where he sucked her nipple to a hard, aching peak. An invisible line fused and tightened between her breasts and her sex.

  Her eyes closed and she rocked against his hand, his mouth. “Please…” she heard herself muttering. “I’m so close.”

  He kneeled. “I want you on your knees.”

  Her eyes snapped open and their gazes clashed. “I can’t do that,” she protested.

  “Oh I assure you, you can.”

/>   She wanted to. Heaven only knew how badly she wanted to get on her knees and present herself for the taking. Propriety prevented her.

  “On your knees.” This time he brooked no refusal. He lifted and twisted her onto her belly then dragged her hips up.

  Before she had time to refuse him—to pretend some more that she didn’t want this—she was head-down, bottom-up on the bed.

  His hands spread her open. She knew he had an unimpeded view of her entrance, of her rosette, but she couldn’t have shied away if she’d wanted to. All her life she’d been told nudity was shameful. Now, that shame heightened her pleasure and intensified all physical sensation to the point she felt drunk on it.

  Fingers—two by the feel of them—pushed inside her sex-slickened channel, probing, sliding pleasurably over sensitive tissue.

  Her fingers fisted in the sheets and she sighed into her pillow. The pad of his thumb teased the responsive strip of flesh connecting her two openings and then settled, pressing insistently against her anus.

  She let out a little yelp, fearing invasion that threatened but did not come. Despite her fears even that part of her desired to yield to him.

  His fingers splayed across the small of her back as he positioned himself behind her. The head of his cock brushed against her inner thigh and then raked through her furrow, parting her, pushing and then—

  “Oh!” Primrose cried as he filled her passage, as her body adjusted to the girth of his erection.

  His first two thrusts came in long slow glides that left her trembling. Every inch of him reawakened her desire. His fingers pressed into her back, positioning her so that her bottom lifted and her sex tilted back. His heavy sac rocked against her with every drive, compelling her to counter him in need of more contact.

  “I can’t be gentle with you,” he ground out.

  “Then don’t try,” Primrose declared boldly.

  He inhaled roughly and then seized either side of her hips, anchoring her as he rutted her hard and fast. Groin slapped groin. The sound of wet suction and punctuated breaths filled the room.

  Doubtless she’d be bruised come tomorrow. She didn’t care. Sensation mounted and swirled, teasing and then withdrawing. Ecstasy lurked just out of reach and she battled with the desire to prolong this moment against the searing need for culmination.

  Coherent thought fled until only this maddening heat existed between them. This friction. This fusion. His dominance and her submission.

  She drifted beyond her original intention of copulating with him merely to beget an heir.

  This…

  Oh this was animal.

  Instinctual.

  She ground her teeth and mewled, spreading her thighs unbearably wider, surrendering to the burning strain to achieve more pressure against her clitoris.

  Shadows consumed her, plunging her into a dark space where he became her only source of light. Where a fine line between safety and danger served as her sole boundary.

  The top of her head found the headboard and she braced herself with her hands, pushing back even as he strove, it seemed, to drive her through the very wood.

  He muttered language she should have been shocked to hear. Instead the words he used drove her higher toward the precipice. “Your pussy’s so wet. So tight. I can’t get enough of your body.” His words were but breathless moans that wafted over her skin and permeated her being.

  On her knees, raw from fucking and being pummeled from behind as if she were a milkmaid, Primrose had never felt more beautiful. More desired.

  His fingers clutched harder. The spasms of his own orgasm vibrated through his limbs and into hers. He cried out so loud she feared one of the servants would surely come to investigate. Primrose wanted to come with him. She plunged her fingers between her legs and rubbed her clit, feeling his sac grind against the back of her hand as she ratcheted her pleasure higher.

  There it was. Holding her breath she welcomed the little death. Her channel shuddered at first and then violent tremors seized hold of her. Bliss rippled through her belly, up her spine and into the base of her skull. Stars exploded behind her squeezed-shut eyelids, leaving her wildly awash like a battered skiff against a rocky shore.

  As the sensation transformed into a soft hum she became vaguely aware of his arms circling her, twisting her, drawing her into a warm embrace.

  Her fist curled gently against his chest as her head found the hollow of his shoulder. Breathing in the scent of him, of sex and warm linen, she drifted.

  His fingers combed through her hair and his lips brushed her forehead once, then twice. “Did I hurt you?”

  She snuggled closer, threading a leg between his. “No.”

  He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I can’t help myself with you.”

  “Why not?” She shouldn’t have asked but she wanted to know. She had to know if she was somehow different from those women such as the two harpies she’d seen in that opium den. Mortified, she realized it shouldn’t matter as long as she achieved her goal of producing an heir. But it did.

  It suddenly mattered a great deal to her.

  He lay silent until she thought she would scream but she refused to speak until he answered her question. Finally his body stilled beneath her and he answered her. “Because I want to punish you.”

  She’d hoped for words of endearment. She’d expected him to fling a barb at her. But she hadn’t expected that.

  He’d probably intended some other meaning but she saw herself bent over his knee again as he spanked her bare bottom and threatened to prod her in the most unthinkable places. Her body shivered with delicious anticipation and before she could stop herself she uttered words she immediately regretted. “I deserve to be punished.”

  She lifted herself off him far enough to look into his eyes. “I want to be punished.”

  Her heart thudded like a drum in her chest. Her eyes watered. She couldn’t swallow.

  His unreadable gaze roved over her face and then he tenderly brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “My things don’t appear to have been touched in my absence.”

  “They were not,” she said softly, wondering why he so abruptly changed the subject. For an instant rejection flooded her.

  “Hamish could have claimed that chamber. You could have thrown out my belongings. At the very least packed them away.”

  “I…I hoped you’d return.” Why couldn’t she prevent herself from revealing too much?

  His eyes searched hers. “Nothing has been touched?”

  “Nothing.”

  His eyes sparkled with mischievous memory. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Whatever your duties at Scarborough Hall entail, see to it they are immediately passed to someone else.”

  “I don’t…”

  “Precisely. You don’t get to do anything. From now on you are mine, body, mind and spirit.”

  Her heart ran wild. She couldn’t breathe. “I…I’m afraid.”

  A diabolical, rakish smile played at one corner of his mouth. “As well you should be.” Grasping her hand, he thrust it down to where his cock had hardened again.

  Dragging her by the thigh, he pulled her on top of him. She gasped as he filled her yet again. Desire fluttered in her loins at being so exposed. With her astride him he could see her breasts and the intimate place where her body parted to accept him.

  “Ride me, pet,” he told her sweetly. “For you won’t be on top again unless I permit it.”

  * * * * *

  He should have been exhausted. Instead Adam felt energized. Alive for the first time in many years. Primrose lay on her stomach, her face turned to the side, partially obscured by a wealth of honey-colored hair.

  He sucked in a breath at the realization of how truly beautiful she was. He’d known she was comely of course. But seeing her thoroughly sated, her irises still dark from the deep hours she’d spent in submission, moved him.

  Her gaze lifted to his as he brushed the lock of hair veiling one eye back from her face
. A sense of pride and possession consumed him with a ferocity that stunned him. He hadn’t expected to find her so amenable to his needs, so responsive. He might even pay a visit to the club with her. His cock stirred at the thought of her masked, collared and in full view of the club’s other patrons.

  A darker image roiled. As an initiate slave she’d be obligated to submit to the evening’s dungeon Master. Handing her over to another for just those few moments was unthinkable.

  How would she react? Would she embrace a new Master?

  Often in the club slaves and Masters traded and swapped. How would he feel if Primrose chose another to Master her?

  He simply needed to make certain she was his before he took her to the club.

  He eased from the bed and stopped at the table where the tray lay of fruit and cheese they’d all but devoured earlier. He selected one of the few remaining cubes of cheddar, popped it in his mouth and padded to his wardrobe where he pulled open the doors and then slid the top drawer out.

  If none of his things had been touched then…

  Reaching underneath the drawer, he triggered the hidden latch then raked back his neatly folded clothes and opened the secret compartment.

  Gold chains glimmered in the low light. His fingers brushed highly polished carved wood. Yes. He smiled. All his little toys were still there. He couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

  “Adam?”

  He whirled to find Primrose standing in the open doorway between their rooms. Clutching her yellow dressing gown to hide her nudity, her hair billowing unfettered over her shoulders, she was stunning. His breath caught, but he quickly remembered their agreement. “Why are you covering yourself?”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Naked,” he said simply. “Whenever we are alone together you will remain naked. Was I unclear before?”

  The muscles in her throat worked as she swallowed. Hard. “No, my lord. You were not unclear.”