Well, that was certainly something to be proud of, was it not?
He delivered the remainder of the spanks, each blow a little harder than the last.
She noticed that her heartbeat still pounded in her ears. Her inner walls clenched over and over. She was aching, empty. Fantastically aroused.
“It’s all over now, my darling.” He ran a hand from her spine and over her arse. As his palm brushed over her still tingling flesh, she gasped. He traced his fingertip along the crease of her buttocks then trailed to her quim. There, he slid a finger inside.
Her channel grasped him tight. “Oh!”
“Christ, you’re so wet.” He withdrew his finger and slid two in this time. Pressing, stroking.
He caressed her bottom, increasing the tingling burn.
Pleasure exploded with in her. Shimmering lavender and white stars of bliss. Intense, God, it was too intense.
And too brief.
“Ohhh!” she cried out as if in surrender and she sank into his lap, exhausted.
Time passed, how much, she didn’t know, she was insensible.
She came back to herself, feeling his hand massaging her hair.
“I’ll have your apology now.”
Liquid sweetness pooled in her belly, affection flooded her chest, and bliss consumed her mind. She wanted to please him. Always. And she was sorry. Sincerely sorry.
“I am sorry, David.”
“Good girl.” He lifted her as he stood.
She could almost laugh as that. He was so strong. Bernard could never lift her much less do so whilst moving to standing position himself. David laid her on the bed, on her stomach.
Her nipples were hard points pressing into the featherbed and wetness seeped between her legs. She closed her eyes and just felt her body’s renewed yearning. The pleasant humming in her blood. She felt strangely…exhilarated. She listened to the sounds of him moving around with a calm acceptance. She didn’t need to look and see what he was doing or plead with him to haste. He would come to her when he was ready. There was no hurry. It was a kind of centered-in-her-body peace she longed for so many times but had difficulty achieving.
“Kneel for me, Jeanne.”
Joy swelled within her chest and spilled into her belly, into her loins. She pulled herself up on her knees with her bottom pointed up at him. He touched her hips, positioned himself at the entrance to her quim.
Thrills raged all through her when he thrust inside and the sensations centered in her channel. He put his hand on her head and pressed it down. She put her face into the coverlet.
He pressed his knob hard against the door to her womb. She cried out with grateful delight. He withdrew, all the way out. Then he thrust back inside, quickly. Pressing harder against her depths. She tried to raise her head to turn and look at him. But he held her head down and tightened one hand about her hip.
“Be still.” His command was a low growl.
He thrust in and out of her harshly. Pounding against her womb. Holding her down. Using her. Taking what he needed. Demanding everything of her. Giving her what she needed in turn.
She moaned his name, over and over. She had been made for this. For his use. His satisfaction. His pace increased. His groans became harsher. His cock seemed to thicken within her, stretching her walls, pressing even more insistently against her womb. He felt hard as iron. She knew that he was close to completion. Her heart thudded with the thrill of it all. A climax came over her that was a slow, sweet melting inside. As mellow as the afternoon sun shining on the cream colored walls. As his seed rained upon her, wet warmth, her pleasure transformed into rich, molten gold, permeating her whole body. Her heart, her soul. Transforming her into something more completely his.
He was her sun, her moon, her whole world.
“Christ, Jeanne.” His lips touched her ear.
“Jeannie.” He said the last as though it were the sweetest endearment. She couldn’t hate the nickname any longer. He caressed her hair. “My love.”
Euphoria filled her. It was even better than being drunk. “Oh David.”
“What do you think of our games?”
“I like them, David.” She spoke breathlessly. “Oh, I like them very much.”
He wiped his seed off of her body and came back to lay with her. They crawled between the sheets. Still floating on the euphoric feelings, she drifted in and out of sleep for a time. Then he caressed her face.
“How do you like the house? Would you change anything? You may change anything you wish. You may have anything you wish, no matter the cost.”
She stared at him, unable to collect her thoughts.
“The house displeases you in some manner?”
“It shall take me time to know exactly how I feel about this house.”
“This house. The way you say that. As though it were something disconnected from you. This is your home. From here on out, this is your home.”
Speaking of things like time and forever threatened to lift the rosy, dreamlike glow left by their play. She put her fingers to his lips. “Oh David, I am overwhelmed by the grandeur of this house. I don’t know what I think of it now except that I am deeply touched by your generosity.”
“I did not think about the fact that you might feel overwhelmed. I knew it would be more luxury than you are used to but I did not even realize how very much the luxury must strike you.” He smoothed her hair from her forehead and smiled faintly. “I do not mean for you to be awestruck with gratitude. I give freely to you because of what you have given to me. From the very start, your compassion, your kindness, touched me and made me want to give you…everything. Everything you deserve. You deserve this house.”
Again, he left her speechless with emotion burning in her throat. He didn’t know her. She wasn’t compassionate or kind. She was selfish, isolationist, and generally a coward when it came to giving of herself.
But he brought out another side of her. For how long would he have that effect on her? She didn’t know. However, she hoped it wouldn’t hurt him too much when her well of feeling for him ran dry. How selfish did it make her to have accepted his extravagant gifts and the thrill of his lovemaking, of his games?
How would he feel about her once he learned her limitations?
* * * *
Jeanne sat in the window seat, seeking her peace in watching the winter birds at their morning labors and finding none. In the weeks that had followed her initial night here as David’s official mistress, when he had first spanked her, she found herself growing ever more restive. More a stranger to herself.
She did not settle into willing, eager, joyful obedience as she expected whilst lying in his arms that first night.
No, she tested him. Pushed at him. Spoke in snappish, almost disrespectful tones when he first arrived. She didn’t even know why she did this except that she was often filled with such edgy, nervous energy before his visits. Silly doubts and fears seemed to arise for no particular reason and made her want to defy him. Made her want to push him away.
Her behavior drew predictable results. On any given Wednesday or Saturday, her arse was sure to feel the weight of his hand. Just enough to warm her up and set her blood humming and her senses pulsing. And afterward, it was always the same: she melted into a mass of blissful submission.
On the days of his expected visits, her anxiety increased to the breaking point. At times, she almost felt ill with it. Take this morning. She’d been able to eat nothing.
The only thing that would dispel the anxiety was the spanking. She’d begun to wonder about herself.
He’d arrive later this afternoon. At three, his note said. She could go to the coffee shop on the corner and also to the lending library and still be home in time bathe and don the silk robe. She’d be more than ready to serve him.
* * * *
David sat in the parlor of the house he’d provided for Jeanne. He’d poured himself a brandy. It couldn’t wash away the bitterness of his day. His bill had been voted do
wn today in a general vote in the House of Lords. God, the fucking futility of trying to bring change. So much work and research, all for naught. Money and influence always seemed to win over facts, reason and humanity. His political career at times seemed so meaningless. There had to be a better way.
Perhaps he should have sent his excuses to Jeanne. She wasn’t expected to hold his hand in times of his disappointments. She was only meant to pleasure him.
He wasn’t exactly in the mood for carnal pleasure.
So why had he come here?
He had wanted to see her. Just see her.
But the jest was on him. She wasn’t there and the housekeeper didn’t know where she had gone.
By the time Jeanne finally entered her house, he was beside himself.
She was flushed, sweat drizzled down her face and several loose tendrils of golden hair stuck to her cheeks. She had obvious been running down the street in broad daylight.
“You’re no longer just a girl, living in a brothel in Whitechapel.”
Her eyes widened and he could see the effort she made to try and better control her panting breath. “Yes, of course I am not.”
“Then why are acting as though you were, running down a public street in the middle of the day?”
More color flooded her cheeks. She bent her head and smiled. “I didn’t think.”
“Do you think I want a mistress who acts like a hoyden in public?” As soon as he’d said the words, he felt like an ogre. But he wouldn’t take them back.
“No, I don’t imagine you want a hoyden for a mistress. But you knew what I was like when you met me. You knew I wasn’t a lady.”
“So I did.”
“I am sorry I was late. I simply lost track of time.”
“Where have you been?”
“I went to coffee shop for a chocolate and—”
“I have provided you with chocolate. Why should you need to frequent a public house?”
“I like to go there. I like to watch the people.”
“Ladies do not frequent public rooms.”
She looked up, her expression pure defensiveness. “Need I repeat myself? I am not a lady.”
“You are my lady now. I expect better behavior. I also expect better adherence to the rules we agreed on. If you won’t do it for yourself, at least do so out of respect for my reputation. You are a duke’s mistress.”
“Yes, David.”
“Yes, but what do you have to say for yourself.”
She lowered her eyes again. “Nothing.”
That response settled on him like whisky thrown into a hearth. He was weary of her disobedience and insolence. He had expected to find greater peace of mind once she agreed to being kept by him. But he couldn’t assure himself of her safety or comfort because she insisted on spending more time out gallivanting about the city, and more often than not, she wouldn’t even take the carriage. She walked.
And she wouldn’t take the girl with her as a companion.
None of this was going the way he’d expected.
“You knew I would worry over where you were.” He didn’t even try to keep the vexation from his tone.
She jerked her gaze back to his, her eyes blazing. This time she was obviously on the offensive. “Why should you worry? I am simply your Wednesday girl. And the odd Saturday.”
How could she say that when she was never out of his thoughts? He was every bit as distracted now as he’d once feared he would be. Before he’d been focused on his work. Perhaps a bit numb. But now he was definitely unsettled. Unhappy.
“That’s a terribly uncharitable thing to say, Jeanne.”
She flushed all over again and her mouth fell open slightly. Again, she cast her eyes down.
There was a certain satisfaction in that. He couldn’t deny to himself that her constant testing was…hurtful. Yes, hurtful because he’d thought her so much more sensible than that. And since she was, he was forced to assume she did these things because she wished to hurt him. But that was a wholly emotional reaction on his part. He mustn’t think with his heart at a time like this. He needed to hear her reasons and then decide what to do about the whole matter of their arrangement. Because he wouldn’t tolerate the types of behaviors that he’d accepted from Therese in his youth. “I want to understand why you’d do something like this.”
“I stopped by the lending library.”
“Again, I have provided you with every book you requested. Why should you need to borrow books like a common person?”
“I am a common person.”
“Not really. Not anymore, Jeanne.”
She gaped at him slightly. Then she blinked. “You said I would have freedom.”
“The world can be a very dangerous place. There are reasons why the rules are different for men and women.”
“I have done as I have pleased for a long time.”
“That is because there was no one there to care for you. Now you have me. It is very selfish of you to not consider my feelings in this matter. You cannot just come and go without saying where you are headed. Not any longer. Now explain why you would make me endure the worry over you?”
“I like to go there because I like to watch people. I have told you that. I often feel alone, and it aches inside. Being around other people in places like that eases my mind and I can concentrate better. I simply became consumed reading. I lost track of time.”
“I told you that Wednesdays were for solely for me. You are not to plan any activities in which you would become too consumed to remember our appointment. I think you did this to solicit punishment. You did it to manipulate me.”
She glanced away and silence fell between them.
“Why ever would you do such a thing?”
She wouldn’t look at him.
He touched her face. “You can tell me. You can tell me anything.”
She hugged herself and stalked away from him. The gesture put a sinking feeling into his chest. He followed her into the parlor. She sat at the piano bench.
He was filled with too much edgy energy to sit.
She idly began to press random keys. The discordant sound eroded the last of his control. “Jeanne, please, stop that and attend to me.”
She looked up questioningly, as though she didn’t know what he meant. He hated that kind of passive disobedience the most.
“I want an honest answer to my question. And stop playing at being a child. It doesn’t suit you and it doesn’t please me.”
Her expression turned pained. Perhaps it was an expression of contrition. He hoped he wasn’t simply seeing what he wanted to see. He wanted to believe she had a valid, compelling reason for what she had done. Something beyond just the pleasure to toy with his emotions. Something that would prove that she was different. “Jeanne, I am waiting.”
“Well, it is not easy for me.”
“Just tell me the truth and I shall try to be understanding but my patience is reaching its end.”
“I’ve been afraid.”
He had expected a string of blaming excuses but such a candid response made him pause. “Afraid?”
“Of myself.”
“Why were you afraid of yourself?”
“I don’t exactly know.”
Silence ensued. He leaned against the wall and tried not to press her. But inside, he seethed with impatience.
“I was surviving before I met you.”
“Yes, you were.”
“I could survive on my own again if I had to.” Her steady look told him she was telling the truth. She had a spine of steel. He knew that.
“Yes, of course you would. But what has that to do with today?”
“I don’t want to merely survive any longer. I do not like the person I was before, all closed off, filled with pain all the time and yet unable to reach out to anyone. At times with you, I have felt open and free for the first time since I was very young.”
He couldn’t help a small smile. “You are still very young.”
“I don’t often feel young. I haven’t felt young since Papa became ill and died. I want to feel free and open all the time but I find myself closing off, becoming that old self again. It scares me.”
“This openness, this freedom; it is a natural part of you but a very private part. You must grow into it. However, I think you shall always be a very reserved person in public situations.”
She hugged her arms. She wouldn’t look at him now. “I want to feel that openness with you. I am greedy. I want to feel that way everyday.” She bit her lip. “I am scared of the openness as much as I crave to be open. It seems safe to be open sometimes. Mostly when you are with me. But it other times frightens me to be that open and it frightens me to think there may come a time when I find myself unable to feel that way ever again.” She lifted one shoulder and then dropped it.
Now she looked at him. Her eyes begged him. Her agitation seemed to vibrate on the air. He began to understand what she was trying to convey. She was speaking of submission, but she didn’t have the language to express it properly. And she didn’t mean the effect of their games on their bed play. She meant something deeper. Their life. But they didn’t really have a life together. Their liaison was for pleasure’s sake alone.
But she wanted more. She wanted him to take her more firmly in hand. More often. She wanted consistency. She wanted his presence in her life on a daily basis.
It was a stunningly sensual realization. Despite the sour taste left by today’s losses in the House, his cock went bone hard.
“I suppose I am not making much sense.” Her tone sounded timid. As well it might after such soul baring revelation.
“You are making a woman’s sense.” He offered her another smile, to ease the nervousness he’d heard in her voice but his collar seemed to have become several sizes too small. He understood what lay beneath what she was trying to say, even if she didn’t. She wanted his presence, more than one or two nights a week. She wanted to turn their game into their life.
It was a natural woman’s yearning he supposed.
Her Mystery Duke Page 18
