Sometimes James was already dressed when they arrived and he went down and would speak with them and let them serve him breakfast. How different for gentlemen! They all knew he was trysting with a woman here, yet it caused him no loss of reputation.
Oh, if they knew he was with his late cousin’s widow, that might knock him down a peg or two, for a season or so, until something else overtook the gossip.
But she would be ruined forever.
Today, James had remained abed with her.
In fact, he still snored softly, his breath blowing on her cheek. She had already tried to roll onto her other side, but even in sleep, he had tightened his hold on her.
At first light, she had opened her eyes, her body filled with such excitement, such joy, she knew she’d never be able to fall back asleep. She had never, ever awoken before him and the opportunity to watch him sleep in the dawn’s light was novel. She stared at the well-chiseled cheekbones, his narrow, long, but not too long, nose, the elegant yet strong jaw. A refined face that told of his noble blood. All the stern lines were relaxed, and he looked so much younger than in his waking hours.
The poor man was likely exhausted.
He taken her three additional times last night.
The pressure in her bladder seemed to grow. Once again, she pulled against his embrace.
His eyes opened slowly. A slight smile curved his sensual mouth. “Cat.”
Cat.
Yes, he had called her that last evening, in the heat of their lovemaking. And he had continued to use it all through the orgy of the whole night.
She hadn’t thought much of it.
She hadn’t been thinking of much at all, truth told.
But this morning, how strange the name sounded.
Sensual and sleek. Exotic.
He pulled her to himself, crushing her to his chest.
That he could call on such strength even whilst staring at her with heavy-lidded, sleepy eyes, that sent a thrill through her.
She gazed back at him, becoming quickly lost in how clear and silver-blue his eyes were in the morning light.
He slid his hands down to her buttocks and ground her against his bone-hard erection.
The motion increased the pressure in her bladder to something close to pain.
“James, please.”
“Cat, Cat,” he said in a chiding tone. “I’ve only just awakened. You must give me a moment before making your demands.”
His meaning settled over her and her mouth fell open.
“I mean, seeing how you exhausted me last night, you might have let me sleep a bit longer,” he added.
She gasped and put her hands to his chest and shoved. “Let me up, you arrogant coxcomb! I have to pee!” Laughter entered her voice at the end.
He tightened his hold, his deep laughter resounding into her chest, her belly. He pressed his lips to her neck. “You smell sweet, God, you smell sweet.”
She knew she stank of sweat, his seed and their sex.
And she desperately needed to pee.
She gave another push. “Please, James, you must let me up in the mornings!”
He released her and she scurried to the dressing chamber, scrambling to the chamberpot and relieving herself with a sigh. Then she went to the washstand and brushed her hair thoroughly. She was just about to step into the steaming water in the hipbath when a pair of strong arms caught her about the waist.
“James, please…”
He bent his head to her nape, pressing his face into her hair. “Don’t…not yet.”
His hand splayed over her sex. His erection throbbed against her buttocks.
“I need a bath.”
“No, you smell sweet.”
She laughed softly. “Oh goodness, James, I need a bath quite desperately.”
“Hush.” He trailed his fingertips over her mons then parted her outer lips and slid two fingers inside her.
“Oh, no, no’ now…”
“Shh.” He moved his fingers within her, in measured, steady strokes.
She felt her growing slickness. The swelling in her folds.
He grazed his thumb over her nub.
Fire sparked through her, shooting deep, deep inside her belly. Her legs went weak.
“Here, love.” He stroked her neck then gathered the mass of her hair, grasping it.
Gave it a sudden tug.
“James,” she gasped, her legs going weaker. A sensation like warm, heated honey in her belly.
He nodded towards the interior wall.” You’re going to go over there and put your hands on the wall.”
“What?”
“And you’re going to stand there, facing the wall, and wait for me.”
She looked over her shoulder and gaped at him.
“Go on now.” He released her hair. “If you won’t obey, I shall send for a harp.”
“A harp?”
“Yes, and then you’ll spend an hour this morning practicing.”
“You’re jesting?”
He shook his head. Then he put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a little shove. “Go on.”
She stared at him.
“Catriona, you said you were mine.” His tone grew stern. Chiding. “You said you would please me.”
“This would please you? To have me stand at wall like that?”
“It would please me greatly.”
With a soft laugh, she turned and walked to the wall. Put her hands on it as he had said.
She glanced over her shoulder.
“Ah, don’t turn around. And don’t lower your hands. Wait there.”
A little annoyed, a little amused, she did what he asked.
In a moment, she heard him laying out his shaving gear.
“What exactly am I waiting on?”
“Well…” He paused and water sloshing sounded. “After I shave, I am going to join you there.”
“Here at the wall?” Honestly, it was the oddest thing. “To what purpose?”
“I am going to join you there and put my cock in you.”
His words stunned her. “Put your cock in me? You mean we shall lie upon the floor, here?”
It seemed rather silly.
The sound of his razor scraping over his face filled the silence.
“James?”
More water sloshing.
“No, Catriona, we’re not going to lie on the floor.” Amusement sounded in his voice.
She listened to the scrape of his razor for several moments, feeling increasingly foolish and trying not to ask any further questions. Curiosity won out. “Then how?”
“Hush, you’ll soon find out.”
She listened to him finish shaving. With her back turned and her hands to the wall, she did still feel silly. But her nipples had grown into tight points and she was becoming quite wet. All right, it must be admitted. She liked him giving her commands. It was her choice to obey or tell him that she wanted to halt, that she did not want to play.
She liked obeying.
She’d wanted a man who would give her orders. Not commands to feel things she couldn’t manage to feel. Not guilt over her supposed coldness. Not punishment when she couldn’t force herself to feel.
No, she wanted a man who would give her orders to do all manner of deliciously naughty things.
A man who knew how to make the game sexually exciting.
A man she could trust to play with her and not to harm her physically—or emotionally.
His footfalls sounded on the floor. He stopped and there was a long pause.
“James?” she asked. Her channel clenched and she felt her inner thighs growing wet now. Her sense of unease, of nervousness, only seemed to give her arousal a sharper edge. “What—”
“I am admiring what is mine.”
“Oh.”
He trailed his fingertips down the line of her spine, slowly down to the crease between her buttocks. The sharp smack startled her. She gasped and jumped.
“Don’t lower your ha
nds,” he said, as he pressed his leg between hers. “Spread for me, sweeting.”
She did.
“Arch your back for me, sweeting.” He grasped her hair, a little rougher than he’d previously done.
The dull pain sent a curious thrill through her. Turned her knees to jelly. She felt him position himself at her entrance.
“Oh goodness,” she said softly.
“Didn’t they ever do it like this in your naughty novels?”
“No, they most certainly did not…ah!” She cried out as he entered her, swiftly, deeply.
He groaned. “God, you’re so wet.” He tightened his hold on her hip whilst pressing his pelvis more firmly to hers. “Yes, that’s good, eh?”
She moaned in response, a sound that quickly threatened to become a wail as he flexed his hips and his erection stroked her inside, thick and pressing against her walls with glorious pressure.
He gave her buttock a smack. The sudden sharp sensation made her jump. He held her hip with one hand whilst still grasping her hair.
“Don’t let your hands fall away from the wall,” he said.
She moaned, her whole body gone weak with desire. But she managed to cling to the wall.
“Good girl.” His voice was hoarse.
He released her hip, slid his hand around her body then stroked her erect nub. It throbbed frantically in response and her sex clenched on his thick cock.
“Tell me when you’re close to coming,” he said, and then he began to move within her. Slow, long stokes that sent pure bliss through her. Just him talking so frankly about her coming sent streams of fiery urgency into her sex, deep into her belly. Oh, yes, she wanted to come. She wanted it so badly!
“James.” She moaned and writhed, trying hard not to lose contact with the wall.
“Tell me, Cat.” He gave her buttock another slap, this time a little harsher. The contact sent waves of heat and sensation straight to her cunny.
She moaned again, a long, near wailing sound.
He slapped her bottom again. “Speak my name when you come.”
Fire sparked through her, and her legs began to quake, her knees threatening to give way. She made one of those ridiculous mewling sounds.
He increased both the tempo and force of his thrusts, whilst still rubbing the bundle of sensitivity at the crest of her cleft.
She was amazed at how easily he managed those dual actions, how he maximized all possible stimulation for her. He tightened his grasp on her hair, gave the mass of it a sharp tug. The unexpected, though swift, fleeting pain sent a wave of thrills down her spine. His lips touched the hollow beneath her ear. He licked her earlobe. Drew it into his mouth and sucked.
She shivered with the myriad of sensations he gave to her. “James…oh, James!”
“Yes?”
“I am going to c-come…oh mercy, I am going to come!” Like lightning, bolts of fiery pleasure blazed from her sex, deep into her belly, down her legs. She curled her toes, arched her back and threw back her head and sobbed with the first waves of her release. Those tiny flickers of fire sparking from her cunny into her very core.
He felt bigger and harder than he ever had before, straining against her clenching inner walls. And he kept stimulating her, driving her, and white lights exploded within her mind. Spasms of ecstasy consumed her. She screamed with the intensity.
And then she fell against the wall.
He stilled within her and let go of her hair, his arm locking about her waist, supporting her limp body. He buried his face into her hair. “Cat…Cat!”
He was thrusting into her again, propelling himself with force and speed. Rocking her. A tremor wracked the length of his body. Then a ragged groan escaped him. His hot come jetted into her as his body continued to shake.
****
After a meal, they lay in James’ bed. He had dozed for a time. Sunny had lain there, letting a succession of memories from her childhood play in her mind. Memories of town life as the daughter of a proper yet genteelly poor clergyman. How regimented their lives had been! Discipline taught through learning to play piano and to sing church music and hours upon hours of calligraphy practice until her hand cramped. Educated at home by their pious mother, other than the Bible, hymns and a few carefully selected arias, she and her sisters had been sheltered from the world of art and literature and music. They weren’t allowed to play card games or indulge in other forms of frivolity. No ribbons for their hair. No lazy afternoons. No dolls or beloved pets to cherish.
Not even any secrets of the heart. They were constantly encouraged to confess their every temptation to their parents. Many an evening was passed, discussing temptations and how to overcome them. Such conversations took the place of mere entertainments and pastimes. Satan was hiding behind each corner. One had to be aware of his methods at all times.
That had been their home life. All she had known as a girl.
Her sisters had been content with this.
But Sunny’s imagination had often run wild, galloping away from her. Filling her with wants and wishes and energy she had difficulty containing.
She had always needed to find some outlet for her high spirits.
“You are so far away from me.” James’ voice pulled her from her musings, even as his arms tightened about her.
Still feeling wistful, she sighed and looked up into his sleepy, silver-blue eyes. “I used to make everyone happy. I could always coax a smile from the sourest spirited person.”
“It is not your duty to entertain the world and make everyone happy.”
“But I liked it. It was the same as the way that Papa could preach on Sundays to a crowd and have everyone beaming with joy, hanging on his every word. I used to watch him do that…so effortlessly. He took people out of their dreary existences and lifted them a little closer to heaven. A day out of the week when their sins and their wretchedness were released. People need that. People need moments of bliss amid the stark, cold reality of life.”
“Such weighty thoughts you have whilst in bed, my love.” Amusement sounded in his voice.
“I think, if I had not been born to a clergyman…” She hugged his arm, feeling her depleted energy returning as a small surge of delighted naughtiness lit within her. She always felt that way when she imagined how different her life might have been. “If had been born to a shopkeeper or a tavern owner or a laboring man, I would have run away to the theater.”
“You could have.” Deep emotion vibrated in his voice. “You would have been a sensation.”
“You don’t find it odd, the way I compare Papa’s preaching to a play acted on stage?”
“Both lift people out of their daily life. Both provide a form of release.”
“Yes, they do. But I am not that girl anymore.” She felt what little energy had returned to her drain with that admission. “I am too serious now. Too sad.”
“Perhaps that’s just a facet of yourself that you’ve been faced with. It is easy to be carefree and focused on giving others joy when you’ve never yet known real loss and pain. But everyone faces disillusion and grief as they mature into adulthood.”
“The thing is, if I am not that girl now, who am I? What worth do I really have?”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“I know the truth, James. I am not a pleasure to be around now.”
“That’s rubbish!” He sat up and took her hand. “Stop believing all the rubbish that Aunt Frances drilled into your head. You don’t owe anyone entertainment. You don’t owe them happy spirits or smiles.”
She looked up at him, trying to reflect a teasing light in her eyes. “Don’t I owe you entertainment?”
His look! Goodness, she had never seen his expression turn so fierce, and certainly never so quickly. She shrank back against the pillow as much as she could, and wondered if she ought to beg his pardon.
“Cat.” He squeezed her hand. “You don’t owe me anything except your company, and to share yourself with me, good, bad and all the
in-between. I am keeping you as my lover, not my whore.”
At the last word, her blood went cold. She turned away.
He ran a caressing hand from her shoulder and along her arm. “Don’t turn away, tell me.”
“I hate to be a depressing bore.”
“What did I say just a moment ago; have you already forgotten? You don’t have to be bright or happy for me. Not all the time. I would rather have your honesty than your lies.”
“You think that’s what I do? That I want to lie to people?”
“It is a form of dishonesty for you to deny your true feelings. Especially here with me, where it is not necessary.”
“I had not thought of it exactly like that.”
“You must start to think of it in exactly those terms. If I am to take care of you, if I am satisfy your needs, all of them, then I must know the truth of your thoughts and feelings.” He tapped her shoulder with two fingertips. “Now tell me.”
“I fear I am a whore at heart. The worst kind.”
“What on earth could ever give you that idea?”
“I have to admit something about Meeker.” She said the doctor’s name hesitantly, fully expecting that James was weary of hearing about the man. But she needed to talk about this.
She needed to confess to someone.
Maybe after confessing, her own tangled confusion would ease. She might come to know this new Sunny a little better.
This Sunny she had never guessed at as a girl.
Slowly, she turned then slowly lifted her eyes to his, dreading what she would see. Exasperation? Disgust?
He was staring at her with compassion. He took her hand and pulled it to his cheek and pressed it there. “Tell me.”
It wasn’t an easy matter to discuss and for a moment, she struggled to gather her wits to speak. “When I first met Dr. Meeker, I found him rather attractive, despite our considerable age difference.”
“After Freddy, Meeker’s relative maturity was refreshing?”
“I suppose. But there’s something else, something darker, far less flattering to me. When he began to speak of my need for discipline and punishment, it intrigued me.” She took a deep breath, turning her face ever-so-slightly from his so that he couldn’t see her eyes.
“You found the idea of being punished by man arousing?”
The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne (Intimate Secrets Book 1) Page 32
