Ruined

by Jess Michaels

  As she scrubbed her body and eventually her hair, her mind went quieter, the driving thoughts of her daughter’s safety, of Aston’s betrayals, of her family’s shame because of her, all bled away for a moment. But what they left her with was just as troubling.

  War. He would come up in a few moments. Just the thought made her sex twitch. They were going to have a conversation about what he wanted. And right now she was so on edge that she feared she might just give him everything. Anything.

  Her hand stole between her legs and she rubbed the bar of soap along the outside of her sex. A sizzle of needy heat was her reward and she sucked in her breath. If she found release before he arrived, at least she wouldn’t be out of control. Perhaps she could think clearer.

  She set the soap on the table beside the tub and put her hand back between her thighs. She swiftly stroked the folds there, opening herself, touching herself. Her body, already on edge from the passion she’d shared with War that morning, softened at the touch. She lifted her hips into the constant pressure of her fingers, bucking against the pleasure as she sought release. But it was only when she shut her eyes and imagined War leaning over her, burying himself deep inside of her, that her body let go. She convulsed with release, moaning quietly.

  For a moment, she rested back against the tub, relaxed and languid. But before too long had gone by, her mind began its constant hum again, reminding her of War’s demands, of War’s hands, of the need for War’s help at any cost.

  “Shit,” she muttered, and rose from the water in one smooth motion. She grasped the big towel from the table beside the tub and wrapped herself in it.

  She dried her body quickly and draped her hair in the towel before she caught up her old shirt. It wasn’t exactly clean, but she hadn’t had much choice lately. She washed her things when she could, stealing new clothes when the opportunity arose. Once she got the London, she would be able to find something else to wear, she was certain, but for now this was her option.

  She buttoned the shirt swiftly and sat down in front of the fire. She unbound her hair from the towel and began to comb through the long locks with her fingers, smoothing her hair and allowing the heat from the fire to dry it.

  The door behind her opened, and she tensed even before War said, “Hello.”

  She peeked at him over her shoulder as he shut the door behind him. He had a small pack bag in one hand and a tray of food in another. Her stomach growled at the sight of it, for she hadn’t eaten since her feast in his bed that morning. Before that…well, it had been a while. The pile of fruit and cheese and meat looked utterly divine.

  “Hello,” she managed to reply.

  He smiled as he set the tray on a table across the room and the pack beside it. “Do you feel better?”

  She stiffened. How could she feel better? She didn’t have her daughter, War was reticent to help, they weren’t in London yet…

  “Your bath?” he continued.

  She nodded slightly. “Oh yes, much better. Thank you for thinking of me.”

  “A hot bath after a long day’s travel is one of life’s pleasures. In fact—”

  He shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it near her discarded trousers beside the tub. As he unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt and then tugged it over his head, she stood up and spun to face him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Using your water,” he said, blinking at her as if she were daft. Of course his gaze then shifted lower, to where the hem of her men’s shirt just grazed her mid-thigh.

  She blushed, despite what they had already shared, and said, “Oh. The water may be cold by now.”

  “I’ll make do. A cold bath might not be the worst thing for me.”

  She turned her back to him, listening to him chuckle and the thunk of his boots as he removed them. Now he would be taking off his trousers. And he would be naked.

  She heard the slosh of the water and dared to peek as he settled in.

  “Yup, it’s cold,” he laughed. “Well, lukewarm. But it will do.”

  She returned to her place at the fire and went back to smoothing her locks, dabbing them with the towel, letting the fire dry them. She tried very hard not to think about the fact that War was sitting exactly as she had been when she touched herself thinking of him. That felt very intimate in this moment. Like she was there with him and they could live out her wicked fantasies…and his.

  The water sloshed as he washed the day from his body, and all her attempts not to picture the soap and water on his toned flesh were for naught. He invaded her mind and made her body ready again without even touching her.

  “You may eat,” he said, and the sudden sound of his voice invading her wicked mind made her jump.

  She looked toward him in the same moment he rose from the water. Any words she might say vanished from her lips. She stared. His too-long hair was slicked back now, making the hard angles of his face even more clear. The water glided from his muscles, down his chest, over his toned stomach and waterfalled around a cock that seemed to be already half hard. How much would it take to bring him to full readiness?

  Not much.

  He grabbed a second towel from the side table and wrapped it low on his hips as he stepped from the tub.

  “Claire?”

  She blinked a few times. “I’ll wait for you.”

  He grinned. “I’m ready now.”

  “In your towel?” She arched a brow.

  “I don’t plan to sleep in any clothes, Claire,” he said, his tone suddenly soft and dangerous. “So why bother putting them back on?”

  A tiny sound escaped her throat and the corner of his lips tilted up in a half-grin. But he didn’t call her out on her obvious desire, merely motioned to the table and the food there.

  “Come on, you must be starving.”

  She shrugged like it was all meaningless and moved to the table to sit across from him. He motioned to the food and she let out a sigh as she took a slice of ham and a piece of cheese. The flavors burst on her tongue and she shivered in pleasure.

  “It’s been a long time since you ate so well as you have today, I would wager,” War said, watching her as she ate grapes next, even as she prepared her next few pieces of cheese and meat.

  She blushed. “We don’t need to talk about that.”

  He seemed to ponder that statement for a moment, mulling over whether or not he would pursue the information she did not freely give. Then he inclined his head in acquiescence and took his own bit of food.

  “What do you want to talk about?” he asked.

  She shifted in the chair. Her body was humming with desire now and even the act of sitting felt like sexual torture at present. And yet she hadn’t fully made a decision about whether she would surrender to the things he had described or not. Giving herself to him fully, letting him corner her and dictate her pleasure…it was allowing him so much power.

  And she knew where giving a man power could lead.

  “The sleeping arrangements,” she gasped out, staring at the plate instead of him.

  “What about them?” he asked slowly, revealing nothing in his tone or his expression. He just watched her.

  “There’s one bed,” she said, her gaze slipping to the bed as she said it.

  “Indeed there is.”

  She fiddled with the edge of the plate. He wasn’t making this easy on her. But then, why would he? He’d made himself and his desires very clear already.

  “Then what will you do?” she asked, her voice barely above a breath. She couldn’t manage any louder at present. Her heart was throbbing so loud, her chest felt constricted.

  He reached out and touched her chin, forcing her to look at him at last. He was focused entirely on her, his dark eyes sweeping over her face like a caress. She swayed under their watchful gaze, leaning in even when she wanted to stay strong.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

  Her chest lifted on ev
ery short breath and she couldn’t look away from him. He was drawing her in, making her want all these things she couldn’t have, shouldn’t want. And yet she did.

  “How would you break me, War?” she asked, referring to their conversation earlier in the day. “Hurt me?”

  His eyes went wide. “No! No, of course not. But you fight constantly for control, Claire. And I wouldn’t let you have it.”

  She pushed to her feet and backed away from him. When he touched her, everything was confusing. The world shrank until it was just them. But it wasn’t just them. She had to remember that.

  “You couldn’t take my control,” she said, lifting her chin in defiance.

  But the moment she said the words, she knew what a mistake they were. She was challenging him, not because she didn’t want him to have her, but because she did. She had played a dangerous game with a dangerous man. And now that man rose to his feet and moved toward her in two slow, steady steps.

  “No?” he whispered, reaching up to grip her shirt in his big fists. “Then just say no.”

  He tugged and the fabric ripped, buttons flying across the chamber in every direction. She was bared to him then, utterly exposed, and not just because she was naked.

  He had seen through her and he was calling her bluff.

  “Say no, Claire,” he demanded as he threw the ruined shirt over his shoulder to flutter to the ground. “Say no and I will stop.”

  He cupped her breasts as he made that promise and his thumbs smoothed across her hard nipples. She hissed out a sound of pleasure, and he smiled.

  “Or say yes and know exactly what you are surrendering to.”

  She swallowed, her mind spinning from his touch and his demands. Slowly, she looked up at him, meeting his gaze.

  “I’m afraid,” she admitted, hating that she had done so.

  His expression softened. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise you that.”

  Promises. She knew how little they were worth to men with a history like his. They were made to obtain their desire, and then broken. But tonight, at least, she wanted to believe him. Even if that promise only lasted for the next hour, she was willing to bank on it that long.

  She shut her eyes, pleasure jolting from the magical touch of his ever-swirling thumbs. “Yes,” she groaned.

  “Thank God,” he muttered before he caught her in his embrace and his mouth came down hard on hers. She lifted into the kiss by instinct, opening to his tongue, drawing him between her lips as she would soon do with her sex. And she reveled in it. War inside of her, however it happened, was wonderful. Better than any fantasy she had spun.

  He gathered her into his arms and carried her to the bed, setting her down on the comfortable coverlet. She moved to lift her arms to him, to draw him into her embrace, but he caught her wrists and lifted them above her head, pressing them down and holding them there with one big hand.

  “No, no,” he said, his dark eyes shining in the firelight. “You will not rule this, Claire. This is mine now.” His gaze swept over her body. “You are mine, your pleasure is mine, your body is mine.”

  Her eyes widened and fear gripped her. “I will not be a slave, War,” she whispered, tugging against his grip.

  “Not a slave,” he said, smoothing his thumb against her wrist. “And only in bed. Submit, Claire, and you shall have such pleasure. I promise you.”

  “And if you do something I don’t like?” she asked, her breath short both from her emotions and the feelings he stirred in her.

  “Then pick a word you will say. Say it and I stop.”

  She stared up at him. “You’ll stop?” she asked, incredulous.

  He nodded. “No matter what I’m doing, I’ll stop.”

  “Even if you are buried in me, close to release?”

  His eyes fluttered shut. “A very nice image and one that makes this hard to say, but yes. If you say your word, I will stop no matter what. But I ask that you trust me not to use this word unless you are truly beyond what you can bear. Now tell me what it is.”

  She swallowed, trying to think of a word that wouldn’t come up naturally during their intimate moments. And only one came to mind. “Trust,” she said softly.

  He arched a brow as he looked down at her. “Trust? You want that to be your word?”

  She nodded. “If I say it, I want it to remind you what I’m putting in you. What you will violate if you ignore it.”

  His gaze held hers evenly even though he was quiet a moment. “That’s fair,” he finally said. “But listen to me, Claire. Hear me right now. I am not Jonathon Aston. I won’t make you question your trust in me. I will not test you to the point where you use that word. And if you do, I will honor it.”

  She wasn’t certain if she should believe him. Her experiences in the past two years told her she couldn’t. But her body ached to test that. To test him. To surrender.

  “Then do as you will,” she whispered.

  He smiled softly, even as he pressed her hands harder into the bed. “Do not move your hands, Claire. No matter what I do. And don’t make a sound.”

  Then he pressed a kiss to her lips and dragged his mouth down her body.

  Chapter Eight

  Claire bit her lip as War’s beard slid along her skin. It was the perfect blend of rough and soft as he dragged his lips down her throat, her collarbone, and lower, lower until he swirled the tip of his tongue around her nipple. She arched with a low cry.

  Immediately, he pulled his mouth away and looked up her body. “No, Claire. Quiet.”

  “Or what?” she asked, unable to keep herself from challenging him, despite her promise to acquiesce.

  His eyes lit up. “I could gag you, I suppose. Or find some other way to punish you. Like keeping you on the edge all night. Like denying you what you want until you weep for it. Is that what you want? Or do you want me to give you pleasure, Claire? To make you quake?”

  She turned her face. Would he really withhold pleasure from her? The idea was physically painful. So she nodded and kept her mouth shut, even though inside she rebelled against his heavy-handed demand.

  “I knew you would understand,” he said, his breath soft against her nipples. “You get pleasure when you obey, Claire.”

  As if to accentuate that statement he latched his lips on her tender nipple again and sucked harder, mixing a hint of pain with the intense pleasure. A sound gurgled to her lips, but she bit down, swallowing it so that he wouldn’t stop. He smiled against her flesh and continued his ministrations.

  He cupped her hips even as he continued to lick and suck her nipple, drawing her naked body against the fabric of the towel that was still slung precariously about his waist. Through it, she felt the insistent thrust of his erection and she tried to lift into him, to rub him against her even just a little.

  He pushed his weight into her, though, holding her still and keeping her from what she wanted. He released her nipple with a wet pop and looked up at her again.

  “You are not in control, Claire,” he whispered. “And if you stop fighting me, you will have what you want all the faster. I don’t plan to deny you unless you insist upon denying yourself.”

  She ground her teeth to keep from huffing out her breath in frustration, what she assumed he would see as a violation of his order to be quiet. What did he want her to do, go limp? Close her eyes and just feel what he would do?

  She shivered. When put in those terms, that sounded wonderful. To be the center of pleasure, to be given what she wanted without any thought to what would be returned? But only if she trusted him. Only if she gave him herself.

  It was so hard.

  But so was he, and she wanted him. So she relaxed into the bed, clutching her hands together above her head so she wouldn’t be tempted to move them. Slowly, she shut her eyes.

  “Yes, Claire,” he whispered against her flesh as he dragged his lips to her opposite breast. “That’s it.”

  Her body bucked as
he suckled her ignored nipple just as he had the other. Now that she didn’t fight it, the sensation seemed to multiply, spreading with electric heat through her entire body and settling more heavily between her legs.

  He thrust against her through the towel as he licked at her, reminding her constantly of the pleasures he could give and, she supposed, take away. With her eyes shut, all she had was sensation, and she bit her lip to keep from sighing and moaning beneath his skilled tongue.

  “You’re doing very well,” he said. “And you’ll be rewarded.”

  She wanted to ask him how, but bit her lip to remain silent, even as she opened her eyes. He met her stare and then began to kiss even lower down her body. He brushed his mouth over her flat stomach, across her hip. Then he pushed her legs open wide and settled between them.

  “Pretty,” he whispered as his breath brushed over her sex.

  “War,” she said, blushing at how close he was to her most private area. Aston had never done anything like this.

  “You were doing so well with silence, Claire. Hold on now.”

  She bit her tongue as he reached out to slide the back of his hand over her sex. Like he was petting her, soothing her. She turned her face in embarrassment, but she couldn’t deny how good it felt. He pressed his thumbs to her and opened her, exposing her even more in the firelight.

  She wanted to say her word. This was too intense now, too close, too real. She felt displayed and judged. But she held back. He would stop, or so he claimed, if she said that one syllable that held so much meaning to her.

  And she wasn’t ready for this to end. So she endured his stare, waiting for it to end and for him to take her. But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned in and touched his mouth to her.

  She jolted in surprise, skidding away from him. He pressed his hands onto her thighs to hold her in place, but pulled his mouth away to look up at her in surprise.

  “Shh, Claire,” he soothed. “What is it?”

  Was this a trap? He’d told her to be quiet, but now he asked a question and she wasn’t certain what to do. She looked at him, eyes wide, wild she was sure. He nodded.