Her Mystery Duke

by Blackthorne, Natasha

  “Let’s say I shall visit you. Probably between two and three.” He reached her cunt, his breath caught, telling Jeanne that he felt her wetness.

  Unable to stop herself, she arched into his touch. His two fingers entered her. He thrust them with deft, sure movements. Sparks of delight shot through her. A moan tore from her throat. He quickened his pace. Heavens, she was peaking so fast—

  “I definitely shall visit.” He withdrew his fingers.

  She gasped. “David!”

  He leaned away from her and stuffed his shirttails into his pantaloons and then refastened his fall. “What do you say, Jeanne? Yes or no?”

  Dressed again, he knelt in front of her, took her hand. “It’s just a game, Jeanne, something to heighten our pleasure.”

  “Yes, a game.” She shifted to her back and crossed her legs to ease the dull ache in her loins.

  “You enjoyed the game the times we’ve played.”

  “But you’re pushing me now.”

  “I am, but if you truly do not want this, then we can simply be a duke and his lovely mistress.” He bent and kissed her hands.

  She felt a less pressured and allowed a small smile. “If I did want to play, what about the times when I didn’t feel like playing?”

  “Then you would simply tell me that you want a ‘sea change’ as I told you before.”

  “A sea change?”

  “Yes, exactly like that.”

  “You make it all sound so simple.”

  “It is very simple.”

  “I want a sea change.” She opened her legs. “Right now.”

  His gaze dropped to her apex.

  “Be kind to me, David.”

  He slipped his hand upward along her thigh. “I fear it’s all too easy to be kind to you.”

  He brushed his fingers over her erect nub. Just the right amount of pressure. She moaned. She wanted to close her eyes but he was gazing at her, tenderness making his eyes burn bright emerald. He leaned closer and put his lips to her ear. “I could love you, Jeanne, I think I could love you so easily.”

  Such a frightening statement that should be, yet with his lips against her ear and his fingers taking her to heavenly heights, it all just seemed part of some lovely dream.

  A game, as he had said. A game he was willing to end the instant she no longer wanted to play. He was proving that to her right now.

  Moments passed and she cried out as swift, sweet pleasure claimed her.

  He sat beside her and stroked her back. “Were you ever spanked as punishment by your father when a child?”

  “David, please.”

  “I must know what kinds of memories it would bring up for you. If it were too traumatic, we can’t play like this. I don’t think so.”

  “My father was gentlest of fathers until he went completely insane.”

  “What happened when he went completely insane?”

  “He would rant and rave at me. Screaming at me sometimes. He accused me of all sorts of terrible betrayals. He…he would say that I had hurt his feelings and that he couldn’t bear the pain of it. He would attempt to harm himself then and I would have to stop him. I had to sleep with practically one eye open. Then one day he completely broke down. He accused me of planning to murder him and he came at me with a knife.”

  He tightened his hands on her. “My darling, don’t dwell on it now.”

  But once started, she couldn’t stop the flow of words. “Oh, he didn’t mean it. But then he had to be committed. And then it was a very, very long time before I could sleep at night.”

  “You still sleep lightly.” He caressed her back. “It is one reason I want to take care of you. I want to protect you and make you feel safe again.” He paused. “Having experienced such a trauma at the hands of your father, it didn’t bother you to be bound by me? To be helpless to my will?”

  A thrill raced through her, chasing away the sadness of their topic. It brought a smile to her lips. “It was the most exhilarating thing I have ever experienced. You knew that.”

  “You must always be open and let me know your desires.”

  She felt the dichotomy of feeling perfectly safe with him yet able to breathtaking fear that he might actually spank her. “I don’t understand it completely myself. I simply trusted you.”

  He kissed her nape. “You trusted me because we were meant to meet. I was meant to be your protector.”

  Her heart swelled within her chest. Something twisted and melted within her. She became so full of warmth and affection that she pressed her face into the crook where his neck met his shoulder. She wanted to please him, in all ways. “I’ll play your games, David. For now.”

  She whispered the words into his shoulder, so low she wasn’t sure he’d heard.

  Until he pressed his lips to the top of her head. And called her my love.

  Chapter Ten

  Jeanne ran upstairs, down the corridor and into the nearest chamber. Mid-morning sun reflected on yellow and cream striped walls. A mellow, cheerful effect. Jeanne felt anything but mellow. She’d thought this would be another bedchamber but it wasn’t. The walls were lined with empty bookshelves and a piano stood off to the left. A dark green rug covered the center of the chamber. A large window dominated the south-facing wall and had a window seat with a dark velvet green cushion. On shaking legs, she hurried over to it and sank into its softness. She bent her head and covered her face with her hands.

  She was overcome.

  Simply overcome.

  David generosity…

  Burning pressure in her throat threatened to choke her and her vision grew a bit blurry. She swallowed, hard.

  Yes, she’d lived in a house during the years her mother lived. And this house was so much larger. But it wasn’t just a house. It was a carefully decorated and furnished jewel of a home.

  The other night, she hadn’t appreciated what he’d been offering her. He was offering her a whole way of living. If she spent much time here, how would she ever return to her dank, depressing garret?

  A knock sounded.

  The housekeeper must have followed her.

  “Yes, Mrs. Wilson?” She tried to clear the lingering lump in her throat. “Enter.”

  The door opened and a short, plump woman came in carrying a tray with a decanter and a wine glass. “I thought maybe you could use a refreshment.”

  Despite her state of agitation, a smile twitched at Jeanne’s lips. A refreshment? Was that how having a strong drink before noon was described in David’s world? Apparently the housekeeper of a wealthy man’s mistress was trained to always be polite, discreet.

  Mrs. Wilson sat the tray down on the cushion beside Jeanne.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Wilson. It looks lovely.”

  “Very good, Miss.” The housekeeper hurried from the chamber.

  Jeanne poured herself half a glass of wine. She took a sip. It wasn’t just any wine. Of course. It was rich, fine claret, very much like the wine she’d had at David’s house. She put the glass down on the tray and then ran a caressing hand over the velvet nap of the cushion. Goodness, she’d wager no one else had ever sat here. That was how crisp and new it felt.

  She began to breathe very quickly. So quickly that she began to feel she couldn’t draw a good, deep breath. She put her hand to her throat.

  Take control over yourself.

  Yes, the air was very heady in this whole house. She had to get out of here. Just for a while. She turned and glanced out the window. Sunlight glared off snow, yet she could see the built-up area where perhaps a vegetable or flower garden existed in the spring and the rose trestles that stood nearby.

  A garden.

  Yes, she’d go out and spend time in the—her garden!

  She jumped to her feet and went to the wardrobe in the bedchamber. Her trunk sat open and empty. But when she went to look for her clothes, they were nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Wilson must have already…what? Thrown then out? Burned them as rubbish?

  A deep sense of loss hi
t her. A feeling of being alone here with no familiar things. However, hanging in the wardrobe were many day dresses, much like the one David had provided her at his home. On a hook hung a dark blue silk robe.

  She caught her breath. A thrill of sudden, swift desire tingled all along her nerves.

  She had to leave here. Just for a while.

  There were two wraps. One was the elegant dark blue velvet cloak from their night at the Opera House. And one was a lighter blue pelisse, lined and trimmed in white fur.

  She would have rather had her old, friendly, plain gray pelisse, just for now. Did that seem ungrateful? Well, she only meant until she became a little more used to such luxury. But her old pelisse had been left behind at David’s grand house in Mayfair. Likely Mrs. Alligood had burned the threadbare, well-mended garment for fear of vermin. Jeanne pulled on the blue pelisse, grabbed the first book she came across in her trunk, and went downstairs.

  The cold air in the yard was refreshing and she found a stone bench. She sat and let herself escape into one of her favorite stories, one she’d read many times.

  * * * *

  “Good afternoon, Jeanne.”

  Jeanne startled and let the wind close the door behind her with a slam. David sat in the kitchen, sitting at the large oak worktable, drinking from a steaming mug.

  It was three already. Goodness, how she’d lost track of time! She put her hand to her wind-mussed hair and tried to smooth it. “I’ll just need a few moments to tidy myself.”

  He smiled slightly. “Jeanne, we had an agreement, an understanding.”

  “So we did. It is the first day. I simply lost track of time. I shall only take a moment.”

  He stood and walked over to her. As he approached, her palms slicked and her mouth dried. He took her hand and caressed the suede on her gloves. “I see you found the new gloves and the pelisse.”

  “Yes.” She could barely speak, so dry was her throat.

  “Do you like them?”

  “Yes, very much. But why did Mrs. Wilson throw out my old things?”

  “I instructed her to put them away. They are in the attic. I didn’t want you to have any excuse to deny yourself the pleasure of wearing the new items.”

  “Oh.”

  He grasped her hand, firmly. Her heart began to beat faster. “I am really very sorry, David.”

  “It is good that you are sorry but that’s not enough.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. You agreed to my terms.”

  So she had. But agreeing in theory, in a moment of heated love play, was quite different from being faced with the real situation. “You intend to-to spank me?”

  “Yes, of course.” He let go her hand. “Hang your pelisse there on the hook.”

  With shaking fingers, she began to unbutton the frogs. He gently pushed her hands away and quickly undid them. Then he took her pelisse off and hung it. He returned and began unfastening the laces of her day dress in the back.

  “What about Mrs. Wilson? And the maid?”

  “They both have Wednesday and Saturday afternoons off.”

  “So we’re alone?”

  “Yes.”

  Her dress fell to the floor, pooled around her ankles. He undid the laces and tapes of her undergarments. Being undressed by someone else made her feel passive, strangely calm.

  Then she stood there, bared. For long moments, he studied her body, his gaze scanning her from head to foot. He walked behind her and did the same. She was almost painfully aware of a sense of vulnerability. And yet, she merely stood there, letting him look. The sense of vulnerability was not only painful but exquisitely arousing. The confusion of the two emotions held her frozen.

  She became cold. Her nipples became points and she shivered a little. He took her hand and led her to a tub of steaming water. She hadn’t even noticed it until this moment. Since the moment she’d come into the kitchen, she’d been consumed by all her conflicting emotions and sensations.

  “I told you, I expected you to be bathed and ready for me every Wednesday when I am due to arrive. My time is very important and you should never keep me waiting. Now get into the tub.”

  She stepped into the tub and sat down. The warm water was very welcoming.

  She had expected him to leave her and allow her to bathe. Instead, he took the soap and a cloth and commenced to lather them. The strong scent of carnations, lemon and a delicate whiff of spice filled the air. A bright scent that made her think of sunshine and summer. He put the cake down and then stroked the sudsy cloth over her back. A soapy, silky glide. Warmth and weakness spread through her body, slowly.

  A duke was bathing her.

  The thought fleeted through her mind, eliciting vague humor, bemusement.

  The act of being bathed should have felt too intensely intimate. She ought to have been uncomfortable. No one had attended to her so personally since she’d been a very small girl. Each rhythmic stroke increased the sense of calm washing over her. A sense of intense well-being. She lost track of time and place. Only his large hands, working the soft, sudsy cloth over her body mattered.

  With a pitcher, he sluiced fresh, warm water over her, rising away the suds.

  At length, he stopped. “Stand.”

  She opened her eyes and stared at his handsome face with confusion.

  “Stand.” He took her by the waist, supporting her as he urged her to rise.

  She obeyed slowly, incapable of thought, and stepped out of the tub. He toweled her off, his motions quicker now than when she had been in the tub. Then he wrapped her in a thick yet soft woolen robe.

  “We shall go upstairs now.”

  She stared at him dumbly and he swung her up into his arms. As he carried her upstairs, she clung to his powerful body. She felt warm, safe. She stopped questioning herself.

  He sat her on the bed. Her bed. She glanced over the long, wide mattress. It seemed so vast. She supposed it wouldn’t be so with his larger body in there with her.

  He touched the woolen robe. Passively, she allowed him to remove it. He put it aside and then returned to her. He bent and took one of her stiff nipples into his mouth. He flicked it with his tongue. Then he drew on it and darts of bliss poured from that peak into her chest, into her belly. Fire raced into her loins. She moaned.

  He raised his head and moved away from her.

  She rubbed her nipples.

  “There’s the matter of your punishment to attend to.”

  His deep, resolute tone, made her look up.

  He stood over her, still completely dressed whilst she was totally naked. A delicious heat began to pool in her nether regions. She didn’t attempt to cover herself.

  “You really intend to punish me?”

  “Yes, I do. And my time is becoming shorter by the moment.”

  She swallowed against her dry throat. Her heart began to gently pound. “How will it happen?”

  “I told you before, Jeanne. Now, either you will accept your punishment or you will tell me you want a sea change.”

  What a ridiculous phrase. What a silly game she had agreed to.

  He sat beside her. The bed rocked but was so quiet compared to her old squeaky ropes. He took her hand. “Come, sit up. You must have wanted this or you wouldn’t have allowed yourself to forget.”

  “I am a very forgetful girl.”

  “You must learn not to be, at least where your obligations to me are concerned.”

  “I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Then tell me you want a sea change.”

  She stared at him. Blinked twice. And yet she couldn’t bring herself to say the phrase. She was frozen and she didn’t understand why.

  He let his fingertips caress her palm. Heat streamed into her loins. A tingling began that she could only identify as anticipation. Shouldn’t she be feeling more dread?

  “Trust me, Jeanne.”

  His tone, deeply intimate and understanding, melted something within her. A warmth, a
feeling of letting go, surged deep in her womb.

  She felt as though they were sharing a naughty secret. She had never felt so close to anyone. Yet she was still afraid of what he would do. A delicious confusion kept her frozen.

  “Come,” he said, motioning to his lap. “You know you deserve this. Let’s not delay any further.”

  She moved towards him then crawled over his strong, hard-muscled thighs. A vague restiveness quivered through her. He was so strong. How badly was this going to hurt?

  He took her by the hips and arranged her weight on his lap, shifting and controlling her easily. Thrills pounded into her with every frantic beat of her heart. Her cunt contracted rapidly, jerkily as if almost unable to handle such sudden, intense anticipation. Wetness trickled over her fast-swelling nether lips. Strange pleasure swelled within her, a feeling of growing closer to him and wanting to be closer yet.

  However, on the other hand, she was consumed also by a giddy, stomach-fluttering, mouth-drying fear.

  Did she really want him to actually spank her?

  Perhaps she ought to reconsider and tell him she wanted a sea change. Goodness, what a ridiculous phrase for this moment.

  She couldn’t find her voice. She could barely breathe.

  Smack!

  His hand made contact with her buttock. God. It had really happened. He had really spanked her. The impact sounded far worse than it was—but no, wait—a stinging burn spread over her flesh. Oh, bloody devil, it hurt. She sensed he was about to repeat it. She squirmed.

  “Be still or else I shall add to your punishment.”

  She clamped her jaws and swallowed and forced herself to be still. Her flesh tingled with the terrible anticipation. She had expected the next to come quickly. Now she was catching her breath, trying not to writhe whilst waiting. Oh God. When would he—

  Smack!

  It was much like the last one, only he struck the other buttock. Another blow came down. Damn, he had such large, strong hands. And he could really spank with them when he wanted too. Now her throat burned as much as her arse. No, she wouldn’t—couldn’t cry. Not in front of him. She focused on the curtain’s braided gold cord hanging down in her direct line of sight and swallowed convulsively over and over as the next two strikes came. The image of the cord did blur a bit. But she did not cry outright.