Everything Forbidden

by Jess Michaels

  He had been forceful when he touched her. Demanding. It should have made her recoil, but being trapped beneath his body and having him draw out her pleasure, almost against her will, had been more arousing than anything she’d ever seen or experienced. And yet that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted more. He demanded full surrender.

  Even as he fully admitted that everything between them was nothing more than a game.

  Well, it was a game she had agreed to play. There was no turning back. Tonight she would experience the full ramifications of being Ethan’s lover.

  She slipped from the bed and turned to face him. What a sight she had to be with her dress twisted at her waist, one breast revealed, her hair half down around her face. She was certain she looked every inch the wanton. Ethan’s eyes narrowed as he watched her and she wasn’t certain he liked what he saw.

  But then he came down from the bed to stand before her and it became clear. He wanted her. A powerful, driving desire was present in every fiber of his being. It practically poured off of him in the form of body heat. It surrounded her and made her body ache with renewed desire.

  Miranda shivered, waiting for whatever would happen next.

  He reached for her and she steadied herself, ready for him to simply grab and take. But instead, his fingers threaded through her hair, finding the pins and loosening her locks until they tumbled down around her shoulders and her back.

  He grasped a lock and brought it to his nose, where he drew in a deep breath.

  “Lovely,” he murmured, then brushed her hair away.

  He slid his hands beneath her dress and eased the fabric down. It swished to the floor and left her in her cockeyed chemise.

  “You need new undergarments,” he said softly. “New gowns. You should use some of the money for your sister’s Season to buy things.”

  Hot blood flooded Miranda’s cheeks. He’d commented on her clothing before and it was something that embarrassed her, certainly. Of course she wanted gowns and chemises and slippers. There was a point when she loved wearing pretty things and fussing over her appearance. Over time, though, she had come to accept that what she wanted really didn’t matter. Not until her family was settled.

  She shrugged. “It is tempting, but I can’t. My time has past. The money must go to Penelope now. No one will be looking at me, at any rate.”

  Ethan let out a bark of laughter as he hooked his fingers under the straps of her chemise. “If they don’t look at you, they’re fools.”

  “You never looked at me,” she whispered, her voice cracking as he pulled her chemise down around her waist and then pushed it over her hips to leave her naked.

  He shook his head and his hungry stare moved over her body before he met her eyes. “I told you before, I always noticed you. Always.”

  Something came into his face. Something she’d never seen before and she wanted to turn away from the intensity she didn’t understand.

  “And you should look, too,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her around.

  She found herself facing the big mirror along the wall beside the bed. The one whose frame she’d found so stunning her first day in this room. Now it was the reflection that shocked her.

  There she was, utterly naked, her skin still flushed from desire and release. And if that wasn’t astonishing enough, behind her stood her ultimate fantasy: Ethan Hamon. His big body was visible around her and his tanned hands stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin.

  “Look at yourself, Miranda,” he said, leaning close to her ear. The sight of him moving in toward her was erotic and her body grew wet in response. She saw her nipples become hard.

  She blushed and tried to turn away. “I can’t.”

  “Look,” he ordered, holding her steady. His voice was so gentle, so seductive. “Look.”

  One hand slipped away from her shoulders and she watched, mesmerized, as his fingers caressed her collarbone then lower to swoop across her chest, then cup one breast. She couldn’t stifle a moan at the sensation and the sight. Together they were almost too much. Her knees began to tremble, but he held her steady and upright as he continued his wicked torment.

  His hand kept roving downward, stroking over her stomach until her sensitive skin pricked and tingled with every touch. She tensed in anticipation, not able to look away as he cupped her mound. She leaned back against his chest with a heavy sigh of pleasure.

  “No man could look at you and not picture doing this,” he whispered, his breath coming harsh against her neck as he parted her folds and revealed her wet sex in the mirror image.

  He fingered her gently, letting her see her body’s reaction even as wild sensations raced through her, heating her blood and melting her bones with intense pleasure.

  “No man could look at you and not picture doing more,” he added before he slipped his fingers from her sheath and backed away.

  She watched him in the mirror, trying desperately not to beg. He’d said that he would force her to ask for his cock and she didn’t want to give him that satisfaction, though it took enormous effort not to do just that. Her body practically hummed with desire, with the need to feel him buried deep within her. It was all she had wanted for three long weeks and she wasn’t certain she could take one more denial.

  He dragged a chair over before the mirror and turned it slightly sidewise so that whoever was sitting in it could see the reflection perfectly. Then he motioned to the cushion.

  She hesitated, meeting his gaze with a questioning one.

  “Sit,” he ordered, though there was no cruelty or anger in his tone. “Please.”

  She had no choice, so she did as she’d been told. It was a strange thing to see herself sitting primly in a chair when she was utterly naked. Especially since Ethan remained fully clothed as he stared down at her.

  He took her off guard by dropping to his knees before her. He parted her legs before she could question or resist him and spread her wide. Despite the fact that he was in front of her, the way he’d positioned the chair gave her a clear view of the scene in the mirror. She stifled a moan at the vision of him leaning in toward her clenching pussy.

  He puffed hot breath over her trembling lips and she arched toward him with a helpless cry of need. Her eyes squeezed shut at the intensity of the pleasure.

  “Look,” he ordered again. “Or you get nothing.”

  She forced herself to open her eyes and watch in the mirror. Ethan slipped his hot hands beneath her backside and lifted, dragging her down a fraction and bringing her to within easy access of his lips.

  He met her gaze in the mirror. “Watch.”

  She gave him a few jerky nods and gasped as he brought his mouth down on her. What had only been an exploration of sensation before was now an erotic vision like those she had secretly witnessed in the past. Only this was so much better because she could feel while she saw. She could touch Ethan and be touched in return, not just fantasize about him.

  His tongue danced across her, finding every single place where pleasure could be brought. She watched as her clit swelled beneath his skillful mouth, her folds flushed and her slit grew slick and ready for more than just his tongue.

  She tangled her fingers in his hair and was stricken, yet again, by the contrast of her pale skin against his dark locks. It seemed those were their predestined roles in their encounters. Light and dark. Innocent and skilled.

  He sucked her clit and she arched helplessly, crying out as intense pleasure spiraled to the edge of control. Just as she felt herself begin to fall, he pulled back, keeping her from release.

  “Beg, Miranda,” he rasped, his lips vibrating against her body. “Tell me you want me.”

  She clenched her fingers into fists in his hair, lifting her hips silently as a plea. He ignored it, holding her steady and only coming in for the occasional, teasing nip against her quivering flesh.

  “Tell me,” he repeated.

  “I want you,” she cried, her breath bursting from h
er lungs in loud gasps.

  He smiled and stroked his tongue over her as a reward. “What do you want?”

  “I want you—” Her voice shook. “Inside of me. I want your…cock.”

  She flinched as the word left her lips. She’d never said it out loud before. It gave her a naughty thrill to be so bold.

  “Thank God,” he muttered as he got to his feet, pulling her with him as he went.

  She staggered on shaking knees, but he caught her, keeping her upright as he maneuvered the chair so the back was to them instead of the cushion. He turned her until she faced the chair.

  “Hold on,” he said as he pressed a hot kiss against the back of her neck. “And watch.”

  She grasped the back of the chair and looked over her shoulder at him. He was shedding his clothing. First his linen shirt, then he toed off his boots, then his trousers fell away. She sucked in a breath, awed once more by how alluring his body was. How hard and masculine in all the right places, but especially the steely erection that curled upward, announcing his desires perfectly.

  He positioned himself behind her and tilted her face for a hot, probing kiss against her lips. She melted into that kiss, clenching the chair back with trembling hands. He opened her legs a fraction and she felt the swollen head of his cock against her slick opening. He rubbed it back and forth over her slit and she groaned.

  “Ready?” he whispered as he placed a hand on her back and urged her to bend over.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Before she fully got the affirmation out, he entered her. This time there was no pain. Only tight, hot pressure as he filled her, took her, claimed her. She gasped as he pushed in all the way until his balls hit her backside. She felt wanton and womanly as she clenched experimentally around his girth.

  “Fuck,” he ground out, his fingers digging into her hips. “Keep doing that.”

  She obliged, squeezing and releasing as he began to pull back. He slammed forward and she cried out as her body spasmed around his.

  “Look in the mirror,” he panted. “Look at how beautiful you are.”

  She turned her head and started at what she saw. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders and the chair. Her face was flushed and reflected all her pleasure. She looked wicked and desirable bent over the chair with this man, this handsome, complicated man, behind her. When he pulled back, she saw the hard stalk of his erection glistening from her arousal and it was the most erotic thing she had ever seen.

  Her orgasm exploded almost immediately. She cried out, slamming back against him with as much speed and strength as he pounded into her. His hands came around to cup her breasts and his face contorted with his efforts to remain in control as he took her. But it was a losing battle. As her release roared on, she saw the moment he found the peak of his own pleasure. He groaned, long and low, his back stiffened and she felt him pump hard and hot into her body as the last tremors of her release faded to mere pleasing twitches.

  Miranda sighed at the feel of his weight across her back, of his cock still buried within her. She looked at them in the mirror, both spent from pleasure, tangled up in each other and wondered at how right the image looked.

  And how brief it was destined to be.

  Miranda smiled as Ethan put a tray of food on the bed between them. It was overflowing with fruit, cheese, sandwiches, a meal fit for kings.

  “Eat,” he ordered with a grin as he grabbed a sandwich. “You need to keep your strength up.”

  Her stomach growled as she popped a grape into her mouth. “You’re not done with me yet, are you?” she teased.

  His face grew serious and he leaned over to press a brief, hot kiss against her lips. “Not even begun.”

  She shivered as he leaned back against the pillows and crossed his bare ankles. He was wearing a black silk robe, while she was wrapped only in satin sheets. It reminded her of the first afternoon she came to this hidden room. Only this time, Ethan seemed to have no interest in abandoning her to wicked fantasies. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but she was glad of that fact. The idea of him leaving her now actually caused her physical pain. After the intensity of their earlier encounter, she needed his presence.

  He rolled onto his side and leaned on one elbow as he polished off his sandwich in two big bites. “Does your mother ask you many questions about your time with ‘Lady Inglewood’?”

  She flinched at the question and set her own sandwich onto her plate with a sigh. “My mother doesn’t ask me about anything unless she thinks she can obtain something from the answer.”

  “She is mercenary,” Ethan growled before he grabbed a grape and popped it between his lips.

  Miranda sighed as thoughts of her mother invaded her mind. She felt a strange urge to explain Dorthea, explain herself. “She wasn’t born into the same class that my father inhabited, you know. She spent most of her life on the outside looking in. Maybe…maybe her behavior is just her way to cling to what she fears she’ll lose if she doesn’t strangle it with her grip.”

  He shrugged and a frown creased his lips. “It does you credit that you can be so fair-minded toward a woman who has done nothing but berate you.” Miranda’s lips parted and he met her gaze. “I told you I watched you, didn’t I? I’ve heard what she said to you. Her whisper is not very effective.”

  Her face burned with embarrassment. “No, it is not.”

  “You are nothing like her, though,” he said softly and lifted his fingers to brush them along her jawline. Miranda caught her breath, but the touch was brief. He dropped his hand away. “I don’t even know how you could possibly be related to her.”

  With a shrug, Miranda stared at her sandwich with unseeing eyes. No one had ever talked to her about her family like this and really made her think about their ways. “You don’t like her, I know. And she can be difficult to handle, I admit. But I think we are very alike in many ways.”

  He snorted. “How?”

  “We’re both willing to go to great lengths to protect our family. Perhaps not for the same reasons, but the results are similar.” She glanced at him to find him staring at her, a pensive expression on his normally relaxed face.

  “She manipulates, though, and you don’t,” he said softly.

  She sighed. “A manipulation is only a twisted lie. And I’ve been lying aplenty lately.”

  He shook his head. “No, a manipulation is a game with the prize being winning your objective by any means. There is a huge difference.”

  She didn’t answer for a long moment. Ethan was the master at games, manipulations. He admitted freely that the bargain between them was a game. She was a game to him. A prize to be won and played with until he bored of her. She knew that, but the idea still stung.

  Especially since currently she felt close to him. This conversation was perhaps the first real one they’d ever had. And she liked it. She liked being able to speak openly to a person who wouldn’t judge or scold her.

  With a light laugh to play off her suddenly somber mood, she said, “She’s having a party, you know. This coming week.”

  He took a sip of wine. “I know. I received an invitation this morning before you arrived. According to her flowing prose, I am to be the guest of honor.” He shuddered.

  Miranda couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, my mother is quite taken with you now that you’re assisting us financially. I’m sure she’ll fawn over you all evening.”

  He downed the remainder of his wine in one swig. “Dear God, now I wish I hadn’t accepted the invitation.”

  She giggled at his twisted, pained expression. “Oh, of course you must come. Drink the wine, appreciate the orchestra. After all, you’re paying for it.”

  Ethan’s expression went from a playfully pained one to a truly pained one for a brief instant. His frown drew down and he looked at her evenly.

  “No, Miranda. I believe it is you who are paying,” he said softly.

  She tilted her head to look at him. Although his face was now unreadable, she
could have sworn she heard regret in his voice. But that was impossible. The Earl of Rothschild lived his life with no regrets. She’d heard him declare that fact many a time while she spied on him. He did what he did and dealt with the consequences, but he never looked back. He never apologized for who and what he was.

  But now he looked at her like he wished…she didn’t know what he wished for. But there was a longing there that she completely understood, even if the cause was unclear. She was familiar with longing.

  “Ethan,” she said softly, reaching for him. She cupped his cheek. “This is what I agreed to. I can’t complain. I don’t want to.”

  He looked at her for a long time, then took the tray and pulled away to set it aside. When he returned to the bed, there was a new look in his eyes and she shivered at its implication.

  “Ethan—” she began, but he rolled his body on top of hers, silencing her with a kiss that melted her resistance and aroused her senses. She was confused by his sudden ardor, but didn’t fight it. There was no purpose to that anymore. He knew he held enormous power over her.

  In truth, she liked that dominance. That he could take any time he liked. That she would grow weak and wanting with just a fleeting touch.

  He pushed the sheets away and opened his robe. Instantly, she wrapped her legs around his waist, lifting herself to his cock and moaning against his lips as he slipped inside. Her thoughts melted away and she surrendered to his touch.

  Surrendered to him, forgetting any cost. Forgetting everything but how good he felt as he drove her over the edge of pleasure.

  Ethan sighed as he slipped his arms from around Miranda’s body. In her sleep, she let out a little grumble, then arched against him before she rolled over.

  Just that little action brought his body to rock hard and ready attention, but instead of taking advantage of her slightly parted legs, he slung the blanket over her naked, tempting backside and got to his feet.