My shaft buried deep, I shifted position and pulled her up to sit on my lap. Her back to my chest, she rode my cock, her breasts thrust out, exposing them to my demands. Her nipples stood ready for my fingertips and I pinched the tight buds, enjoying the heavy weight in my hands. The shift in position brought her soft, round ass to my hips and her legs straddled my thighs as I plunged in and out of her wet heat from below.
She leaned her head back onto my shoulder and her silken hair fell in a wave across my chest. Tied at the wrists, she lifted her hands to my head and pulled me to her, offered me more. Her pink lips parted, soft panting noises rose from her throat as I fucked her.
A sudden urge to lift my hands to her face and rip the mask from her features nearly overwhelmed me, but years of discipline stayed my hand. No one removed their masks during the masquerade. And if I removed her disguise, she would demand that I, too, reveal myself. That, I could not do. I would shame the king and myself, and be the talk of the nobles for months; the prince who abandoned his noble ladies to fuck the servants.
I’d be a laughing stock—or worse. She would be, as well, and I would not do that to her. She must decide when to reveal her identity. She must decide when to show me her face.
And still the urge to unmask her thundered in my head. I wanted to see her face, to know the curve of her cheek and the slant of her brow. Her surrender, her trust, mesmerized me, and I did not know her face.
“My beauty.” Her eyes shimmered like dark pools in the faint candlelight when she turned her head to look up at me.
“Dorian.”
My cock jumped at the sound of her voice. No one said my name with such reverence, such honest need. I nearly lost control, but I needed to ensure her pleasure first. “How do you like to be fucked, love? I won’t last long and I need to know what you want. Hard and fast? Soft and slow?”
Her eyelids drifted closed as I shifted beneath her, plunging in and out of her pussy.
“I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.” Her whispered confession was little more than the sigh of a contented kitten in my arms.
“Never—” No. I must not have heard correctly. No.
I lifted her off my cock, stood, and turned her to face me. Unable to withstand the confused disappointment on her face, I lifted her into my arms faster than I’d let her go. I backed her to the wall and aligned my cock with her wet heat, eager to be inside her once more. But now, I looked in her eyes. Now I would see and recognize the lie. But her eyes drifted closed. She released a soft moan as I positioned her over my straining cock and lowered her body onto my hard shaft.
“Look at me.”
Head back against the wall, her bound wrists trapped between our chests, I stared at her as she lifted her eyelids. “Dorian.”
I thrusted and she whimpered, her gaze glowing with heat.
“What do you mean you’ve never done this before?”
Her eyelids fluttered and her dreamy smile hid nothing. “I’ve never had a cock inside me.” She closed her eyes and groaned, her weight shifting so her clit rubbed against my abdomen. “Feels so good.”
I believed her, and something primal and possessive unfurled in my chest with claws and teeth. She was mine. No one else had touched her.
The knowledge made me wild, and I reached between our bodies to stroke her clit as I rocked into her, hard and fast. She writhed and moaned and screamed my name as she came apart in my arms.
She surrendered everything, and I had no intention of giving it back.
My heart raced and I followed her over the edge, pumped her full of my seed, my mind already planning. I would send a carriage to her home and hire her in the castle proper. I’d instruct Markus to find a job for her in the castle as a lady’s maid or some other pleasant job. Perhaps she would enjoy working in the rose garden. With neither of us yet wed, the pleasure of each other’s arms would be ours to enjoy until reality came knocking. My position foretold the likelihood of a horrifying arranged marriage designed to seal one of my father’s alliances. I’d long ago accepted as fact that my destiny didn’t include taking a bride for love
Cock semi-hard and still inside her, I held her pinned to the wall and kissed her—because I could, because I needed to memorize her taste. The next time I took her would not be in a dungeon at the masquerade. Next time, I would gaze upon her face and draw out her pleasure, have her eager and writhing, stretched out before me. I must devour her sweet pussy and claim her ass, make her beg for release. Perhaps I should tie her to my bed, spread her legs wide and begin her education in the many ways to experience pleasure.
I kissed her long and deep, her soft moans and softer flesh making me harden again where I remained buried inside her.
She gasped as I grew large inside her swollen folds. I knew her pussy would be even tighter than before, the hot, engorged lining of her core a fiery grip around my hard cock.
This time, I slowed my thrusts as I fucked her, my hands on her ass lifting her and settling her over me again and again. I laid her on her back, held her hands above her head, and pounded into her welcoming heat atop one of the thin mattresses thrown on the floor for the evening’s events. She opened for me, denied me nothing, arching her hips to take me deeper as my body exploded. With a shocked cry, I came again, my cock jerking against her womb, filling her with my seed, marking her as mine.
Afterward, I held her for a long time, ignoring the others around us. As time passed, people found their pleasure and took their leave until only a handful of us remained. I stroked her back and studied her curves. I’d wanted to know the reality of a normal man, and when she leaned her head on my chest and looked up into my eyes, I felt more like a prince than I had my entire life.
“Thank you.” A shy smile crossed her face as I traced her bottom lip with my thumb, unable to stop touching her.
“You’re welcome. But this won’t be the last time. I want to see you again.”
Her blue eyes sparkled behind the mask and I leaned forward to place a kiss on a birthmark I discovered on her left shoulder. It looked like a bird in flight, and I imagined the sweet cooing of a dove as I pressed my lips to the sensitive spot.
“You do?” she asked.
“Yes. When can I see you again?”
“Next month. I’ll come to the masquerade wearing the same dress. Don’t choose another. Will you wait for me?”
I shook my head as she rose and slipped her dress on. “No. That’s too long. Tell me your name. Tell me where you live and I’ll send a carriage for you, tomorrow.”
The soft joy faded from her eyes and she stepped back, pulling away from me. “I can’t. No. I’m sorry. I’ll come to the masque. I have to go.”
“Wait.” I raised myself to half seated and protested when she turned to flee. Her slippered feet struck the hard ground with swift bursts of sound as she ran. I hurried to my feet and tucked my cock into my breeches, but by the time I gave chase, she had vanished like a ghost in the night.
And I didn’t even get her name.
ELLA
Morning sunlight streamed through the tiny window of my bedchamber and I squinted against dawn’s first rays. My stepmother and her evil offspring, my stepsisters, Tabitha and Marissa, had not returned from the palace ball until near dawn. They would not require breakfast for hours, but the animals had not spent the night at a masquerade. The horses would be hungry. And I needed wind in my hair, the wildness bursting within my chest needed an outlet.
And that wildness had a name. Dorian. The divine pleasure I found in his arms tempted me to run to the palace and ask for him. But surely he had work to do, as did I. And I did not want to cause trouble for him, or myself.
Nothing good would come of him learning my true name, or the name of my father.
I rose and donned my dark green riding habit and boots. The outfit, not as fine as those of my stepsisters, showed its age and origin; one of many years-old hand-me-downs discarded my way. I was not one to complain—I had learned long
ago that the act did me no good, and often earned me a backhand across the cheek from my kind and devoted stepmother.
More than once I’d wished death upon her, wanted her neck stretched in the rack or her body starved in the palace dungeon. Years ago, the Grand Duke decreed my father a traitor to the crown. But my stepmother, second cousin to the Duke, had been declared an innocent victim. The king gifted my stepmother with our home, as compensation for the loss of her husband. The king himself came to the house the day after my father’s funeral. I remembered King Demetrius well. He’d been kind to my stepmother and ignored me completely. Which suited me fine. If he’d tried to touch me, I might have bitten his royal fingers off and ended up in the stocks myself.
My father died a horrible death, and his new wife took over our ancestral home as if nothing had happened. And the subsequent and frequent visits from the Grand Duke always concluded with the sound of wild fucking and whispers of palace intrigue. I did not understand what my stepmother plotted most of the time, nor did I care.
The day the king handed my stepmother a sealed declaration granting her my father’s every possession, I learned the extent of my cruel and unfair world. Every day since then had confirmed and expanded the lesson.
Well, except, perhaps, last night. With Dorian.
I sighed at the memory of his handsome face, his strong jaw and dark beard, his huge cock stretching me. I was sore there, between my legs. But the tenderness made me smile, proof that my new lover was much more than a figment of an over-active imagination. I grabbed an apple from the kitchens and slid it in my pocket before walking to the stables where I grabbed a bucket of corn and another filled with oats. I wandered in the early morning chill and tossed a good portion of corn on the ground for our chickens.
“Good morning, ladies,” I called out as each one scrambled after me squawking like she’d not eaten in days.
The geese followed, waddling across the small courtyard in a scramble to reach me before their greedy friends finished off the morning meal. The female of the pair nibbled at my clothing, tugging at my riding habit with her beak to get my attention.
“I see you too, sunshine.” I tossed leftover bread crumbs at her and her mate, Shadow, each named after their predominant mood. Sunshine liked to waddle around the yard and honk at the chickens. Shadow preferred the peace and quiet of the small pond behind the property, but always came along with his mate for breakfast.
Still smiling, I hung the oats and corn for the first two horses in the stable. The third, my father’s horse, and the only thing in the world my stepmother hadn’t taken from me, whinnied as I neared. If the wretched woman didn’t fear riding so, she no doubt would have taken him as well.
“Hello, Henry.” I reached up as the tall stallion’s light chestnut head cleared the top of the swinging wood door that held him in his stall. He sniffed at my hand and nibbled at my gloves, only to discover I was not holding an apple this morning. It tickled. “Silly horse.”
I crossed my arms and leaned back against the door to his stall. Used to our game, he blew a hot breath over my head and bumped into me with his nose.
“Oh, no, Henry. I forgot all about you. Whatever will you do today? As I’m convinced not to spoil you.”
Henry lowered his lips to nibble at my hair with a soft whinny, unhappy that I faced away and ignored him. He did love his apples, and a soft rub on the nose.
When I still did not move, he resorted to nipping at my shoulder, then my ear.
I turned then, eyes round. “Oh, no, Henry. I heard that you have not been a very good horse.”
He threw his head back and neighed loudly in protest. Henry was a very smart horse, and we’d had this conversation nearly every day the last ten years. “So, you were a good boy?”
Henry whinnied and moved his head up and down, as if nodding at me. Sometimes, Henry thought he was a human, not a horse.
In an exaggerated movement, I placed my hands over my heart. “Oh, thank heavens. I knew you were a good boy.”
He nodded some more and pawed at the ground.
Laughing now, I pulled the apple from my pocket. “Of course I brought you a treat.”
He took the apple and snorted his approval as he munched on the sweet fruit. I patted his neck and leaned my forehead against his giant frame. “Poor baby. You’re practically starving. And your shiny golden coat isn’t very shiny.” Which was an absolute lie, of course. Henry’s coat shone like polished oak, but I did love to tease my horse. “Isn’t Gregory taking care of you?”
“I heard that, miss.” Gregory, our stableman, half blind and walking with a cane, rounded the corner stall. He’d been a horseman all his life. The horses trusted him, and once he sat atop their backs, his limp didn’t matter. He rode like a demon, and at full gallop, he and the horse were one creature instead of two.
“Of course you did.” With a grin, I turned and gave the old man a hug. Taller long ago, he’d shrunk, as old men do, to about my height, and he smelled of dirt and hay and horseflesh. His eyes were glazed with the milky white of age, and when he rode, the horses took care of him as much as he them. “I knew you were listening.”
“Aye? And I was listening last night when you sneaked home in the wee hours of the morning.”
I pulled from the embrace with a blush, but didn’t deny his claim. “What of it?”
He chuckled. “Did you enjoy yourself, girl?”
My smile nearly split my face in half as I thought of Dorian. His hands. His voice. His cock. “Yes. Very much.”
Gregory harrumphed. “Good. You deserve to have a little fun. Just don’t you let your mother find out.”
“She’s not my mother.” The very idea made my skin crawl. Many times over the years I’d been grateful not one drop of her foul blood ran in my veins.
“Oh, aye, call her what you want, Ella. But she might as well be. She owns you, and I’m afraid she’s got plans for you that you ain’t gonna like.”
His words sent a chill down my spine. We often grumbled about what remained of my family, but this time he seemed not to be talking of hypothetical, but of something all too real. “Gregory, what are you talking about?”
“I ain’t up this early for my health.”
That was when I heard the snorts and stomping feet outside the stable door. I hurried to the door and peeked outside. A large mare stood tied to the post, waiting for Gregory to attend her. I looked up at the house, afraid of what transpired behind its stark gray walls. “Who’s here?”
CHAPTER 4
ELLA
“I t’s that Netterton fellow, and he’s in too fine a mood for my liking,” Gregory said.
The blood drained from my face and I leaned on the wall nearest the door to steady myself. No. Mr. Netterton lived in a small fishing village near the sea. Twice my age and missing more than half his teeth, fish stench followed him everywhere. Once every month, for the last nine months, the lecherous old man visited our home to ask for my hand. First my stepmother told him I was too young. Netterton knew that for a lie. I was nineteen and of marriageable age. In reality, I suspected she didn’t want to pay wages for a maid the household would require to replace me.
But Mr. Netterton must have assumed the same. After his last visit, the kitchen maid, Babette, said he offered an obscene amount of coin to buy my hand while Babette served them tea. Right there, in front of the help, my stepmother had demanded double his offering price.
Babette had been forced to leave the room before Mr. Netterton responded, but he’d left us alone the past month. I had hoped he might look elsewhere for a bride.
“What’s he doing here?” I asked, my stomach twisted into a sharp knot.
“They don’t tell me anything, Ella. Just order me to fetch the horses.”
I squinted at the old man, willed him to tell me what he knew. “No, but they treat you like you’re invisible.”
He did chuckle then. “True. And with this limp, I don’t move too quickly these days.”
Irritated now, I placed my hand on his shoulder and shook him gently in reprimand. He was my one true friend in this house, and I knew he’d taken his sweet time walking the mare to the stables. Thank goodness his ears still worked just fine. “Stop torturing me and tell me what you heard.”
Gregory moved to my place at Henry’s stall and patted the stallion’s head as he spoke. “He brought more coin.”
My knees shook and I leaned back against the stable wall. “No.” The thought of that vile old man touching me made me gag. “No. She would never sell me. Not now. Not until the masquerade season is over.”
“May be right, girl. But that’s just four more months.” Gregory spit on the ground. “Come autumn, I think you’d better be ready to run.”
“I have nowhere to go. This is my home.” I turned my head once more to stare up at the house, at the main floor window through which the morning light passed into the study. No doubt Mr. Netterton and my stepmother were plotting my future on the other side of that glass. The servants here were my family. I was allowed no money, and few clothes. Worse, my stepmother and sisters demanded hours of work each day. I’d argued once, and taken ten lashes before being thrown out onto the streets.
At twelve years of age, I survived three days before I crawled home and begged her to take me back. I collapsed at the door, starving and filthy, with blood on my face from an encounter with a man who attempted to accost me. I’d ripped out a chunk of his cheek with my teeth and run for my life.
I never argued or tried to leave again. The options for a penniless woman out in the world were horrifying. And if life had taught me anything at all, it was to have realistic expectations. I’d never be lucky enough to find a job as a governess or teacher. My formal learning had ended with my father’s death, though I had studied my letters and numbers. Since he died, my education had consisted of cooking, cleaning, and avoiding my stepmother’s ire.
Seduced in the Dungeon (Dark Kingdom Book 1) Page 3
