by Lavinia Kent
That was true and it was something that had never bothered him, nor any of his companions, in the past. However, he could understand Bliss’s reticence. He considered the room and what he knew of the architecture of the building, the fireplace was on an exterior wall and the door through which they had entered led to the common hall. The other door led to the adjoining room. That left the wall with wardrobes.
Ahh, there it was.
He gestured for Bliss to join him, and then pointed to a small hole about chest-level up. She looked at him in question, and with a shrug he placed a shoulder to one of the wardrobes and shoved until it blocked the opening.
“Does that please my lady?”
She nodded and went to sit on the bed with a decided bounce, her earlier nerves forgotten. With a broad grin she untied the mask and tossed it to the foot of the bed, reaching for the toggle of her cloak.
He watched as the heavy fabric slid from her shoulders to pool about her on the bed.
Nodding approval at the simplicity of her dress, he strode forward until his knees brushed her.
He could see the jerk of her throat as she swallowed.
Reaching forward, he pushed down her bodice just enough to reveal his mark upon her flesh, a soft red circle against her pale skin. It was his turn to swallow and gulp, as his already swollen cock made its presence known.
The mark called to him. He longed to trace it with his tongue, to soothe it with his lips, to taste her sweet flesh again. “Does it still sting?” he asked.
“Not really. I definitely still feel it, but it is not bad. It was more of a reminder than anything.”
“That is how I wished it. And what did it remind you of?”
A delicate flush raced up her cheeks. “Of you.”
That was the correct answer, but he wanted more. He stared at her and simply raised a brow, waiting.
She did not disappoint. “It made me think of what you do to me, of what you make me feel—and of punishment. I don’t understand what it means. I don’t like that the very word makes me quiver inside. I should be running from you, not racing to you willingly. Why do I not fear and dislike something that I should?”
“Racing to me? I do like that.” He should tell her that it was best to run, but he did not. She was his, for better, for worse. If he were a more honorable man, he might send her away, but he could not. All he could do was protect her and care for her—always. “And you like the idea of punishment when you deserve it?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know. I should not like it. I’ve never liked it before, but when you say it I turn to jelly inside and my mind fills up with the most sinful and delicious pictures. I know it will hurt and yet I long for it, long for the burn that brings freedom, that brings peace. I cannot forget Mrs. Binkshaw’s face as her husband’s hand came down upon her. I want to feel like that.”
“You will have to tell me about those sinful pictures in your mind sometime. And as for your feelings they are not uncommon. There is freedom in giving over to another, in letting your mind rest free of all worry—and you do have a most active mind, my Bliss. And as for pain, why should you run from it if you also find pleasure in it? Sensation is sensation. Why not let your body decide what it likes, what it desires?”
Her eyes grew wide at his words, but he could see her mind fighting for control, her thoughts racing and tangled. It was his job to clear them. “Are you ready?” He let the last word linger.
She pushed to her feet, brushing against him. “I do want to be sure we have some understanding before I do this.”
“That is acceptable.”
“I want, I need, to stay a virgin. It seems strange that I am ready to do this and yet worry about the honor of my marriage vows, but I do.”
“I understand. Is there anything else?”
“You will stop if I ask?”
“That is always a rule. I have no desire for an unwilling partner, not even in the slightest. If you are unhappy let me know. All I ask in return is honesty.”
“What exactly do you mean by that?”
“I mean two things. First, do not try to hide if something displeases you, but also, second, take a moment to consider whether it is merely surprising or actually unbearable. Tonight is about learning something new and new things can be unsettling. Be sure how you feel before you ask me to stop. You can also ask me for a moment to breathe and think. I will deny you nothing, Bliss.”
—
He would deny her nothing. The words sang through her, sending sparks of desire down to her very core, dampness building between her legs, but also something else, something she did not wish to examine too closely, something warm and alive and…“Will you let me see all of you?” It was not what she really wanted—well, she did want it, but it was far easier to ask for something fun and sexual than to pursue her own tangled thoughts.
“You will grant me the same privilege.” He said it as fact, not question.
Would she? She realized it might come to this, but hadn’t really considered the act of taking off her clothing in front of him. Now it was all that she could think of. He’d seen her breasts. He’d thought them beautiful. Could it be so much worse to let him see more? Had she ever been naked with anyone? Well, her maid, of course. But that hardly seemed to count. And she was rarely completely naked, more often one thing was being put on as another taken off. When she was in the bath there could be more than one maid, sometimes one she did not know, bringing buckets of water to and from. She was always under the water when that happened, however. Did that count as naked? When she was much younger she’d stripped down with Angela so they could compare bodies. She’d been scarcely ten at the time. And it had felt odd, if forbidden in a most delightful way. The modiste? Was she ever completely naked with her dressmaker? She must be, but she could not remember a…
“Does the thought cause you that much panic?”
“What?” She looked up, startled.
“You are clearly deep in your thoughts in the manner which you fall into whenever you wish to avoid actually thinking about something.”
“I do not.” Well, she did, but she had continued resentment that Duldon noticed it.
“Let us not debate. Does being naked with me make you nervous?”
“Yes. It does seem a very large step on this pathway we have followed.” Her head dropped as she spoke. It should not have been a difficult answer to give. A discomfort in being naked was normal, to be desired even. Why she should be embarrassed by it was beyond her.
“I have seen your breasts.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Would it bother you for me to see them again?”
That made her think. It had not been a matter of thought the other night; they had simply suddenly been bare and her desires and emotions had been running so high that it had not even occurred to her to protest. Now, it was harder. “I confess that it would feel strange, but I am aware that most of this will feel strange. It is the same with being naked. I do understand it is a necessary part, but I feel some shyness.”
“It is not actually necessary for you to be naked, at least not completely. Some couples even to choose to keep on certain pieces of attire because they find it provocative. I must admit that I’ve always liked a woman in a corset as long as I can push her breasts up over the top. I relish the contrast between restraint and freedom.”
Her sex throbbed at his words. She never even considered such a thing, and yet her mind was flooding with visions. “I do understand. Lord Banks and Julianna were not naked, although I cannot imagine taking off all my clothes in someone else’s house.”
“I do admit that it is rare to place oneself in a position of such extreme vulnerability. It is not something I care for personally.”
Her heart was almost beating out of her chest with anticipation. What was coming next?
“And you are managing to distract me as well as yourself. I do still have your punishment to administer.” His hands slid down the hard lines of his
thighs, drawing her gaze. She could see the swelling between his palms and wished to reach out her own fingers to touch and feel. Her hands moved and stretched toward him.
A deep chuckle emerged from his throat. “Yes, you do seek to distract, if not one way then another.”
“I don’t mean to.” She turned her face back to his.
“I know that, my sweet. Otherwise I’d be forced to try and correct your behavior, but I sense that is impossible. It is simply who you are.”
She nodded.
“Now, being in a forgiving mood, I will offer you a choice of punishments.”
That sounded good. She had always like having some freedom to choose.
“I can either spank you or tease you more—and then some more. I do rather think I’d like having you squirm with want for me.”
A spanking? He would spank her? The thought brought first horror and then curiosity. She remembered again how Mrs. Binkshaw had moved toward her husband’s hand, eager for more. No. It was unacceptable. She would never allow a man to hit her. Although…
But to be teased further? Could she bear that? Her body had ached and cried with need ever since he’d left her the night before, at least until Lady Perse’s visit. She had to admit that had cooled her, but only until she’d started thinking of tonight’s meeting, then her body had burst into flames again. Closing her eyes, she tried to conceive of being even more at his mercy, more in his control. If he made her need him more than she did now she would beg, beg and cry and plead.
No. That was far worse than a spanking. A spanking could be forgotten at morning’s light—even if her behind remembered it for a few days longer. If she begged Duldon she would never forget it.
“I choose a spanking.” Her voice was firm.
He smiled, just the barest hint curling about his lips. “You always were a smart one.”
Her cheeks warmed with pleasure.
“Now then, lift your skirts to your hips and bend over the end of the bed. It is time you learn the purpose of that leather padding you seemed so taken with.” His voice rang with authority.
Her skirts were gathered to her knees before she even thought about it. And then she stopped. She had nothing on under her skirts. If she lifted them and leaned over she’d be exposing her all to him. He’d be able to see everything. Even she had never really seen what she looked like—like there. And why was she jumping to obey him? Yes, she’d agreed to this, but that still didn’t mean she had to do everything he said.
“You are thinking too much, Bliss. Just do as I suggest.”
“Suggest?” She could not keep the response from slipping from her mouth.
“Yes, suggest. There is no force here. You may leave if you wish. I will escort you home. But if not you must learn to do as I say, with no questions. I am the master within this chamber. Is that too much for you? Would you like me to take you home?”
And he would. She knew that without the slightest shadow of a doubt. If she wanted to leave he would take her—and he would not judge her for it. As the thought ran through her mind, her internal trembling stopped.
She would not leave, not now, not when her fantasies might be fulfilled.
Chapter Sixteen
She could do this. She wanted to do this. It might take courage, but Bliss had never been one to back down.
It was only a body. Everybody had a body. Duldon had seen naked women before. It wasn’t like anything she had was going to surprise him.
Her feet still hesitated as she turned to face the bed, but deep inside a confidence was growing. It was strange that she should feel a sense of power doing something so submissive, but there was no denying the feeling.
Her hands landed on the deep padded leather of the footboard. It was firm but soft, and just the right height for hips to bend across with only the slightest lift of her toes. She could feel Duldon moving behind her but she did not turn her head. At this moment she would concentrate only on herself. She pressed her hips against the footboard, feeling the give. The position would not be uncomfortable to hold.
Now, for the harder part. Placing a hand at each hip, she began to inch up her skirts, her fingers slowly gathering the fabric. When she reached her upper thighs she paused. This was difficult. A desire to look over her shoulder and see Duldon’s expression grew, but she resisted. What if he did not look pleased? What if he did? It would be much worse if he was not pleased, did not find her attractive. Did men find such things attractive? She supposed they did. Mr. Binkshaw had glowed with hunger as he’d stared at his wife’s secret places. And Lord Banks had put his mouth there. Surely a man would not put his mouth somewhere he did not find desirable. What did she look like there? Pink, she knew. And undoubtedly shiny and wet, based on the feeling of her thighs. Duldon had indicated that men found such moisture attractive. Had he truly meant it?
A low chuckle sounded from behind. “Only you would start to think about something else right now.”
“I am not thinking about something else. I am wondering if I am attractive, there, between my legs. It is a rather strange concept and one I’ve never stopped to consider. A lady may wonder about her shoulders, her smile, her breasts, but her—her cunny? What woman considers if her cunny is attractive? What if you don’t like it? I am not sure I could bear it if you did not like it. I am hairy there, you know? The Greek nudes never have hair. Although not as hairy as Mrs. Binkshaw. And I didn’t see Julianna in the library, well, I did, but only in a kind of shadowy way, so I have no idea what she looks like. I don’t even quite know what Mrs. Binkshaw looks like. The angle was never quite right. I don’t even know what I look like. It is my own body and I don’t know what it truly looks like. Is that odd? Do other women know what their cunnies look like? And what about behinds or asses, as you call them? Are they attractive? I know that women like to stare at men, but they are so well-defined in tight breeches and trousers. If men like women’s asses why do we hide them beneath skirts? Or do you only like them when they are naked? I would have to say I can enjoy a man’s ass whether clothed or bare. I am not even sure which I prefer, although I have to admit I have seen far more of them clothed than naked. I do like your ass. I can tell how much you ride in its tightness and when you wear buckskins I can make out all the muscles in your thighs. Did you know that—how much your breeches sometimes show? And I am not the only one looking.” She peered over her shoulder at him.
Duldon was staring at her now. It was impossible to tell whether he was about to laugh or order her to be quiet. “You do ramble when you are nervous, don’t you? And you don’t care about what. Did you really just tell me you like my ass?”
She had, hadn’t she? Feeling the flush rising hot on her cheeks, she turned back to stare at the far wall, and then stopped, looking up. “There’s a mirror above the bed, under the canopy.”
“Yes, there is. I thought you might like it.”
“Why would I like it? It seems a strange place for a mirror.”
He let out a long sigh. “Well, you do like to watch.”
She considered, looked up at the mirror and then down. “But watching myself? I am not sure about that.”
“You were just speaking of those parts of yourself that you had not seen. Perhaps this way you will see them and also see my appreciation of them.”
That was true. And she would get to see him as well. If they ever made it to that part of the evening. This did seem to be taking forever, which was her fault. She was the one who kept delaying, and thinking, and talking and talking.
She pulled in a breath so large her breasts expanded over the top of her corset. If she was going to do this, it had to be done.
Grabbing the sides of her skirt, she pulled it high and bent forward over the bottom edge of the bed, burying her face in the coverlet so that Duldon would not see her heavy color.
He stiffened behind her. She could feel the air freeze and knew he stared at her. God, she was glad he could not see her face. This was unbearable. He was looki
ng at her, seeing a piece of her that no one had ever seen, that no one but her husband should ever see. And even with a husband it should have been only in faint moonlight, not the glare of lamp and candle.
“You are very, very beautiful, every piece of you,” Duldon’s voice whispered from behind.
The words brought some reassurance. She could hear the husk of desire in them, hear his want. He did not lie just to appease her nerves. She turned her head slightly to the side, not enough to see, but enough to bring air to her lungs.
“I did not visualize you as pale as you are, nor as creamy. Your skin glows like the finest satin. No, like pearls kept safe in some sultan’s harem.” A single finger traced down her right buttock, sending a frisson of electricity through her. It felt good. She wanted more. The finger traced her other cheek. More bolts of feeling.
A full palm settled on each buttock, just sitting there, resting, allowing her to become used to his touch. His hands were warm and she could feel the calluses from riding at the base of each finger. His thumbs brushed out, caressing.
For a moment, that was the only movement in the entire room, other than the rising of chests with breath, two thumbs moving in slow circles over sensitive skin.
Her feet shifted, separating slightly. Had she truly locked them together with such force when she lifted her skirts? The gesture had been unconscious, but now she could feel Duldon’s soft circles softening tight muscles and allowing her to move.
“You’re thinking of me as Duldon. I told you last time that there are moments when I wish to be Stephan.”
How did he know that? This mind reading was becoming tiresome. A woman needed some secrets.
He chuckled and she wondered if he had read that thought.
Pushing up slightly, she turned her head farther until she could see him. Her breath caught. He was staring at her, as she had known, but the look upon his face, the naked need…His whole being seemed focused on that stare, on the small movements of hand on skin. Sensing her glance he looked up and met her eyes. Instantly his face became more settled, the deep emotions hidden in the mask of everyday.
