by BETH KERY
* * *
A minute later, he heard what sounded like a door opening and Jax’s disgruntled whinny.
A feeling of dread swooped through him.
No, she wouldn’t.
He rushed out of Kesara’s stall and saw the stable doors wide open, neither Jax nor Elise anywhere in sight.
* * *
The devil made me do it.
The words zoomed into her brain as Jax flew into the night and a mixture of terror and excitement made her heart leap into her throat.
She didn’t mean the biblical devil. She meant the man who’d been bedeviling her for weeks. Lucien’s angry shout pierced the night, but Elise was too preoccupied with staying on Jax’s back to pay him much mind. She bent low, her chin just inches from Jax’s flying mane, her thighs clamped on the saddle like a vice. She gathered the reins and pulled for all she was worth, but the large, strong animal had been startled when she’d crawled up onto his back.
Startled and pissed.
She was a good rider, but she hadn’t been on a horse in over a year. Plus, she’d never been on a mount as strong or fierce as Jax. He shot across the dimly lit pitch, Elise clinging onto his back like a leech that was about to lose suction.
Maybe this hadn’t been the wisest choice after all. But when had she ever been wise when she grew desperate?
“No, Jax, no,” she pleaded desperately when the animal cleared the pitch and entered the forest. For a few wild seconds before darkness almost completely encapsulated them, she saw that it was a wide horse path. Jax was clearly familiar with it. He barely slowed with the dirt beneath his hooves instead of the grass. The animal bolted through the forest, Elise hanging on for dear life and beginning to panic over her decision to goad Lucien.
Damn him. If he only wasn’t so insufferable—staring at her ass when she wasn’t looking with those hot, gray eyes, acting like he didn’t want her when she knew perfectly well he did.
Her eyes were blinded by the patchy clouds and the dark trees. Jax pounded on the path, the sound of his hooves hammering into her ears and mixing with the terrified beats of her heart. The horse’s footing was sure. If she just hung on, he would eventually tire.
Wouldn’t he?
The boundless, raw energy she felt exuding from the animal made her doubt her self-assurance. At least he hadn’t tried to throw her. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Very dim starlight helped her to make out the tops of the trees. Her thighs began to burn unbearably from the tight clamp necessary to stay on the horse’s back. If Jax bucked or reared, she wouldn’t be able to hang on.
Suddenly she became aware of the sound of distant hooves behind them.
Lucien.
Relief surged through her. Her increasing terror at being on the back of the out-of-control animal trumped the dread of his reaction.
“Jax!” Lucien shouted in a hard voice several moments later from behind her. Jax whipped up his head sharply and let out a throat-tearing whinny, the action and sound making her fear he’d rear.
“Hang on, Elise. Do not leg go. Jax, slow down, you demon,” Lucien bellowed from behind her, sounding wild with worry, not to mention furious. Could he catch up before she lost her strength and fell off? she wondered frantically. Elise could tell by Kesara’s sleek form that she came from a family of racers, while Jax came from a long line of horses bred initially for the brute force and perseverance required on the battlefield, and in modern times for polo. But Jax was pitched into a frenzy.
She had herself to thank for that.
She heard the sharp cracking noise of a crop on horseflesh and had an image of Lucien back there, urging Kesara onward. For a crazy, brief second she hoped Jax would keep running.
“Jax,” Lucien called sternly, his voice sounding closer this time.
Jax snorted loudly. At first, she noticed no change in the animal’s pace, but it began to enter her awareness that he slowed. The sound of Kesara’s clattering hooves drew nearer, mixing with the sound of Jax’s ragged pants. He was tiring. He slowed to a fast trot. She heaved a sigh of relief, easing some of the brutal pressure she’d placed on her thigh muscles. She pulled on the reins and Jax finally responded, slowing even more.
The horse came to a halt. She remained bent over, panting, holding the reins in a death grip. She heard Kesara and Lucien come up beside them and come to a stop.
“Lucien?” she asked shakily a moment later when she felt his body brush her leg. She could just make out his tall shadow from the weak starlight. He put his hand in front of hers on the reins. Jax pranced and her heart again leapt into her throat.
“Whoa,” Lucien said in a low tone. Jax calmed, and Elise wondered if Lucien wasn’t patting his hindquarters with his talented hands, soothing him.
“Take your foot out of the stirrup,” he said.
She did what he said. He grabbed ahold of the pommel, and the next thing she knew he was straddling the saddle behind her, his large body reassuringly solid and warm behind her. Without comment, he firmly took the reins from her and chirruped. Jax slowly turned in the path.
“Kesara?” Lucien prompted. Jax began to walk in the path in the direction of the stables. She heard Kesara’s hooves on the path, following them.
“I’m so sorry,” she began breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to startle him. He bolted out of the stables before I could do anything to stop him. I only wanted to sit on him,” she added lamely when Lucien remained intimidatingly silent behind her.
“You opened the stable doors,” he said, his voice like frozen steel. She felt the tension coiled in his hard muscles as she leaned against him.
The fury.
Her heart quailed and then began to throb in her breast.
“Thank you for saving me,” she said over her shoulder, part of her wishing she could read his expression, part of her glad she couldn’t.
“Lucien?” she queried shakily when he urged Jax to a slow trot and Kesara followed.
“You would do best to be quiet. I’m furious enough as it is.” He placed a hand on her belly and pressed back, forcing her into close contact with his crotch. Her eyes sprang wide when she felt the fullness of his flagrant erection, the heat of him seeming to pour into her body.
Oh no. He was a barely contained explosion.
“If it weren’t for your white jeans, Kesara never would have been able to follow you in the dark. She doesn’t know the trail yet. Jax could have easily broken your neck.”
“I honestly didn’t mean to—”
“I know exactly what you meant—to push both Jax and me into a frenzy, isn’t that right?” he asked in a rough tone near her ear. She shivered uncontrollably against him. “Well you’ve finally pushed hard enough, ma fifille. I’m going to give you precisely what you deserve.”
She felt a long, rigid rod replace his hand on her belly. Dread and excitement pulsed through her when she recognized it was the crop. Well, this is what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?
She must be out of her mind.
He held the crop firmly against her for the entire silent, simmering ride back to the stables, making sure her ass remained pressed tight to his cock . . . a constant, intimidating warning of what was to come.
* * *
When they reached the stables and dismounted, Elise nervously took Kesara’s reins and went to unsaddle her and give her a rubdown.
“Just put a blanket on her,” Lucien said sharply. “We’ll give them a rubdown after.”
After.
She knew after what. She avoided Lucien’s gaze as she led the mare into her large stall.
“Come out here,” he said a moment later.
She spun around in the process of covering Kesara with a blanket, freezing at the sight of him standing next to the closed half door of the stall. He rested one hand on the
top of the door. In it, he held a length of leather tether.
She walked toward him slowly, her head held high, holding his stare. She wasn’t afraid, necessarily. How could she be, when she’d been the one to instigate this?
She was almost unbearably excited. Not to mention worried she’d bit off more than she could chew.
He closed Kesara’s door behind her and reached for her. The second before he seized her mouth with his own, her eyes sprang wide. He looked furious and wild with lust. His mouth settled on hers. He kissed her forcefully. Everything vacated her brain for a moment . . . evaporated to mist. There was no way thought could exist at the same moment as Lucien’s hot, demanding possession. He’d kissed her before, but never like this. She felt sexually scorched by him. His hands came up to bracket her jaw. She went up on her toes, pressing her body against him, a willing, eager hostage to his mouth.
She whimpered, but he never broke their torrid kiss as he lifted her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands went to the side of his head, furrowing her fingers through his thick hair and molding it greedily into her palms, inhaling his spicy scent, so hungry, so desperate to absorb every sensation of him.
A moment later, she blinked in disorientation when he set her down. Her gaze fixed on him. Every muscle in his body was rigid. She glanced downward and saw how full things looked behind the front of his jeans.
“That’s just the way you wanted me, isn’t that right?” he asked, his voice low, a menacing taunt. She realized he’d carried her over to a fenced-off pen. She’d seen something similar to it in other stables, where the groom hosed off the horses and the vet did examinations.
“Take off all your clothes,” he said.
“But . . . do I have to?” she asked, glancing around the open area of the stables. His only reply was a fiery what do you think? glance. “What if the groom comes?”
“You should have thought of that before you climbed on Jax and pushed both of us to the brink, shouldn’t you have?” he asked quietly through a tight jaw. “Why the hesitation? You must have known all along I’d do this. But you just had to push, didn’t you. You just had to grab the reins.” She noticed a flicking movement near his knee. Her gaze sprang to his face when she saw he held a crop. It was made of black leather and looked new in comparison to the worn, supple brown leather one he’d used on Kesara earlier. A flicker of anxiety and arousal spiked through her.
“All right,” she said breathlessly, chin up. “But I’m only letting you do it because it sounds kind of interesting.”
He exhaled a puff of air. His eyes looked crazed. “You nearly got yourself killed so that you could have a little sexual titillation?” She jumped at his sharp question. “God, I’m going to wear you out. Take off those clothes.”
She began to undress hastily, draping the garments over the top rail of the fence. Dozens of horses were awake now, following the noise of their intrusion. It was ridiculous, but she felt self-conscious in front of the animals’ gaze. Exposed. And what if the groom did drop in? It was late, true, but not that late.
“Do I have to take off my boots, too?” she asked, examining the stable floor. It was made of smooth cement so it could easily be hosed down and was straw-strewn, but it looked clean.
“Completely naked,” he said. Something about the edge of his voice made her glance up. He was staring at her bare breasts. Her nipples pulled tight. She jumped when he popped the leather slapper of the crop against his leg in an impatient gesture. That, and the dangerous glint in his eyes, made her hurry. A moment later, she stood before him nude. His nostrils were flared when she looked into his face, reminding her a little of Jax in a fury.
“Bend over the fence with your hands on the top rail,” he said. She followed his instructions. Somehow she’d been expecting him to say just that. Expecting it . . . dreading it . . . anticipating it. A jolt of mixed excitement and anxiety went through her when he came up beside her. “Hold this between your thighs while I tie you up.”
Elise looked up in confusion when he pressed the slapper of the crop at the top of her thighs, right next to her pussy.
“I . . . what?” she sputtered when he applied pressure and the slapper started to slide between her thighs.
“You heard me. Let the crop in, and then clamp your thighs around it. Do not let it slide down or drop it. Don’t worry, it’s clean. I just purchased it. I’ve decided to use it for riding you instead of a horse,” he added darkly.
Her breath caught at that. She did what he said, bewildered, but instinctively reacting to the hard edge to his tone. After a few seconds of squeezing her thighs tight to hold the crop in place, she started to understand why Lucien had made the request. First of all, she’d had to clamp her legs like a vice to stay on Jax. Her thighs were very tight and sore. They started to burn under the sustained pressure of holding the crop in place.
Second of all, gripping the potential tool of punishment against her pussy felt dirty . . . illicit . . . good. Her already sharp excitement mounted. Her clit tingled against the tightly wound leather of the handle. She tightened her thighs to increase the stimulation and winced at the burn of the muscles.
She saw that Lucien had witnessed her grimace.
“Devil,” she accused softly when she saw his almost infinitesimal smile.
“You have yourself to thank for that,” he said as he lifted the leather tether and began to bind her wrists to the rail of the fence. When he’d finished and walked to the side of her, she blushed as she considered how she must look to him, stark naked and bound to a fence in a stable, the black leather crop handle sticking out just beneath her ass.
“How dare you put your life at risk that way?” She heard the distilled anger in his voice.
She twisted her chin, wanting to see his face. What she saw in his eyes made her flinch inwardly. It was as if he considered a threat to her life as a personal affront. He lifted his hand and swung, giving her ass a stinging spank.
“Don’t you ever . . . ever . . . ever pull something like that again, Elise,” he seethed, smacking her ass for emphasis as he walked behind her. She strained to see him. Her heart started to pound in her ears when she saw that he was stroking the length of his cock through his jeans, his handsome face tight as he stared at her bound body. “I can’t believe you did that. No other man on the polo team can handle Jax—strong, skilled men. What were you thinking?”
“I just can’t stand it when you ignore me . . . discount me . . . act like I’m about as interesting as the hay on this floor. I did it to make you notice!”
“Is that what you think?” he bellowed, sounding equally amazed and infuriated. “That I don’t notice you? That I could ever possibly ignore you when you’re near? Or even when you’re not? Impossible. I’m as likely to ignore you as I would a fire in the room.” His gray eyes reminded her of a wild, electrical storm when his gaze flashed up to her face. Oh dear. She really had unleashed a tempest.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
His expression hardened. “No you’re not.” She muffled a cry when he grabbed the handle of the crop. He jerked up slightly on it, firing the aroused nerves of her pussy. Pleasure tore through her.
“Do you like that?” he asked from behind her, his voice tight with lust. He started to move the leather handle back and forth between her thighs, stimulating her pussy. When she didn’t answer because she was so overwhelmed by the illicit pleasure he gave her, he peeled back her buttocks and moved the crop deeper against her tissues. She cried out excitedly when the rod buried between her labia and rubbed against her clit. Lucien made a low, rough sound and she realized he could probably see how wet she was.
“Look at that,” he muttered as if to himself. “Your juices are going to season this leather perfectly. You’re really making it your own, aren’t you?” She moaned uncontrollably. He pulled back on the crop and
worked the two-by-three-inch leather slapper between her thighs in a subtle sawing motion.
“Unclamp your legs a little,” he ordered, his voice sounding harsh. Tense. Was he as excited as she was? Her nipples pinched tight at the thought. She did his bidding, parting her thighs and crying out in pleasure when he rubbed the slapper directly on her swollen clit, back and forth, around and around in small circles.
“Lucien.” The naughtiness of what he was doing spiced her excitement unbearably. She began to bob her hips against the delicious pressure. But then the crop was gone from her hungry pussy.
Smack.
He’d popped her bottom with the slapper. “Oh, it burns,” she said, referring not just to the prickling nerves of her ass but also to the sizzling of her clit between her clamped thighs.
“You deserve it,” he growled, smacking her once more with the crop, mounting her excitement.
“Please, Lucien,” she moaned. Lust had vanquished her pride. An untenable, monstrous ache swelled in her, a clutching fist of desire that needed to be released.
“Don’t worry. I told you you’d get what you were asking for,” he grated out. She noticed the crop fall onto the floor.
“Lucien—,” she began, wanting to apologize. She wanted this—she was so hot and tense with desire—but she regretted pushing him. He interrupted her by lifting her. She heard a scraping sound on the hay-strewn floor.
“I need to raise you,” he said from behind her. She gasped when he lifted her with ease, settling her feet on a smooth carton made of hard plastic. When he set her down again, she was elevated by several inches, her bottom closer to the fly of his jeans. Jax whinnied loudly behind them.
Her eyes went wide at what she heard next: the sound of his zipper lowering. Her heart began to race faster than it had when Jax bolted.
“You’ve tried me enough, Elise.”
He noticed her looking back at him and met her stare. She sensed how aroused he was, how rabid with lust. Sweat sheened his upper lip and his eyes looked wild. His breath was coming raggedly as he hastily worked at the fastenings of his pants and lowered his boxer briefs.
