by Alysha Ellis
The simple truth confronted her. “I am already changed. Whatever happens next can only enhance my experience. I will regret nothing.”
“You honor me with your generosity,” he said and picked her up. Holding her close in his arms, he carried her to a door she hadn’t noticed before. He opened it with one hand, still holding her securely with the other, then walked through into a room dominated by an enormous, canopied bed.
He deposited her on her back in the center. Susan lay there, staring up at him in wonder as he shucked off his clothing. If she thought him magnificent in his black-garbed elegance—naked, the power and beauty of him took her breath away—strong legs, narrow hips, broad chest, a sprinkling of black hair leading down to a springy nest from which his cock thrust upward.
The girl who had set out from home so few days ago would have been afraid. But Anthony had already earned her trust. She knew she wanted this irretrievable step. When they were done, she would be another person—no longer a girl, but a woman prepared to shoulder the responsibilities life heaped on her because she had this one perfect night to look back on.
She opened her arms and waited.
He came to her then, covering her with his body, kissing her until her control melted. Her legs fell apart. She felt him nudge her opening with the thick head of his cock.
“This may hurt a little the first time,” he said but she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on. He wouldn’t hurt her any more than he had to. She trusted him to take the memory of any pain away—to replace it with more of the exquisite pleasure she had already become addicted to.
The pain hardly mattered anyway. She focused on the feel of his cock, sliding inward, filling and stretching her. Any other sensation was peripheral. He bit down hard on her neck, and she bucked like a mare in heat. The brief tearing as he simultaneously thrust inward barely registered.
As she had before, she whispered, “More.”
The word acted like a spur. He drove hard, pulled back with a dragging velvet friction, then rammed into her again, over and over. He was wild and frenzied and he burst through the last threads of her constraint. She arched and clenched and tried to take as much of him inside her as she could.
As much as he gave her, she wanted more, harder and faster. She wanted to bear the marks of his possession for days to come. Her nails raked down his back and as if in response to the sharp pain, his teeth sank into her skin harder, making her cry out. She felt like a wanton goddess, put on Earth for this and this alone.
His rhythm grew faster and faster and of their own accord, her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him in, holding him to her.
She used the extra leverage to lift herself up and grind herself against him. The pressure built and built until, when she was certain she could bear it no more, it shattered and throbbed on a giant wave of sensation. With a shout, he stiffened above her. Through the haze of passion, she felt his cock pulsing out its own rhythm of release.
He hung there, suspended in time, his lips pulled back into a passionate grimace, then he collapsed beside her, his head on the pillow. Though his cock softened, their bodies remained joined. He drew rough breaths into his lungs before he finally lifted his head.
“You are magnificent,” he said. “A man could never tire of you.”
She refrained from pointing out no man would ever get the chance. Perhaps he wanted to keep her with him for a little longer. He might even offer to set her up as his mistress. If he did, she could not be offended. Her behavior here tonight could hardly lead him to believe she had chosen to henceforth lead a chaste life as a domestic servant.
No matter how long he offered her, she would refuse. This one night could be her secret, but she could not step into the life of a concubine. She would lose her mother, her sisters and her own self-respect.
As if he sensed the change in her mood, Anthony withdrew from her body. He shifted his weight to one side.
With the severing of their physical connection, she knew. The time had come to put an end to their interlude. Although she felt as if her legs would never again be steady or her heart rate return to normal, she pushed herself up on her elbows, ready to rise and dress. What they had done was marvelous, but she didn’t want to wait for him to tell her to leave.
Before she had done more than swing her feet to the floor, Anthony sat up, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her backward. “Allow me.”
Mystified, she remained motionless as he climbed out of bed and strolled to a basin of water on a side-table. He moistened a cloth then returned to her, pushed her onto her back, and lifted her legs, spreading them at the same time. He efficiently washed away the sticky residue of blood and juices clinging to her naked thighs.
When he had finished, he tossed the cloth back to land with a wet splash in the basin and rolled her onto her stomach. “Time for your next lesson.”
Her resolve faltered. She would still have to leave. But staying with him just a little longer, making love to him one more time, would not change the eventual outcome. It would give her another memory to store up and feast on for the rest of her life.
He straddled her, his knees making indentations in the bed. Then he gripped her waist to pull her up onto her hands and knees. “Rest your head on your forearms.”
The position left her exposed, rump in the air. Anthony nudged her legs wider apart. His fingers stroked along the center folds. She grew warm and damp in response. He flicked her sensitive knot once, then pulled back. He slipped one long finger inside her, pressing against her inner walls. Her muscles clenched, closing around him. He pushed his hooked finger in harder, finding a spot that made her shiver with the rush of pleasure.
His voice a low growl, he said, “You’re wet and ready for me.” His finger withdrew to be replaced by the round head of his cock at her entrance. Her muscles relaxed, eager to accept him.
“I won’t be gentle.”
The words and the threat they implied made her tremble with anticipation.
Before the flurry of goosebumps had faded from her skin, he rammed home. Her forehead bounced on her arms. She fell forward, but he tightened his grip and hauled her back, open and ready for him to drive into her again. The heavy sac beneath his cock swayed against her with the power of his thrusts.
One of his hands moved around to cup her from the front, the heel pushing against her mound, the palm and fingers stroking the sensitive nub. The harder he rode her, the harder he gripped. The only sounds she heard were the small grunts and exhalations, his and hers. The slap of flesh against flesh.
With her head buried, her eyes were useless. The darkness freed her to concentrate on the feel of his hard cock, the delicious friction, the sting as he stretched her to her limits. The throbbing welled up to become an all-encompassing beat, sweeping her away to a cataclysmic conclusion.
She shuddered and shook and cried out, but the sound, muffled by her arms and the pillow barely reached her own ears. Above her, Anthony gave a mighty shout. He rammed forward one last time, pouring his seed into her in hot spurts and shudders. They continued while he slumped over her back, head resting on her shoulder blades, his forehead wet and slick.
Her thighs trembled. Without his arms holding her up, she sank onto the bed. Anthony followed her down, his weight heavy but wonderfully right. She didn’t care if she never moved again.
At last Anthony stirred. He slid to the side and gathered her up against him then pulled the disordered bedclothes over them. “Sleep,” he commanded.
Perhaps she shouldn’t, but she had nowhere else to go tonight. The thought of being held in his arms was too tempting to resist. Her eyelids grew heavy. She drifted off.
Chapter Five
She didn’t open her eyes again until morning. Anthony’s servants, clearly well trained, had whisked away the remains of last night’s supper without waking her. Her clothing, which had been discarded to lie in disordered heaps on the floor, had been folded over the back of a chair. Someon
e had even had the kindness to provide two dressing robes, folded neatly on the table. The dark blue one looked heavy, masculine and used. It had to be Anthony’s own. The other, a frothy sea-green silk, appeared to be new.
She wriggled out of bed, trying her hardest to make sure she didn’t disturb Anthony. She looked look at the red dress she had worn the night before. It reminded her too much of what she was leaving behind. She would never wear anything like it again. She would never own anything like the robe either, inherently temporary, something designed only to be worn for the brief moments between rising and dressing. It did not hold the memories the red garment did. She wrapped herself in the soft silk then cautiously slipped through the sitting room, out into the hallway.
Last night when Anthony had brought her here, her attention had been entirely focused on him. She couldn’t remember from which direction they had approached the room. A long look up and down the corridor didn’t help her orient herself. She had no idea how to find the room where she’d first been left to wait, and didn’t know whether she could get there from this section of the house without going through the servants’ quarters.
She shrugged and began to walk in the direction she thought the stairs might be. Unfamiliar aches and pains made her wince, but she refused to allow herself to limp. The quiet rush of footsteps alerted her just as a maid carrying clean linen bustled into view.
Susan felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. Everyone in this household knew what services the women who came here provided. The maid had probably been the one who had brought the robes. She would have seen Susan and Anthony asleep, tangled together on his bed.
The best way to approach the situation was to be matter-of-fact and direct. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Susan spoke. “Good morning. Could you direct me to the room I occupied when I first arrived?”
The maid showed neither surprise nor disapproval. She curtsied. “Yes, mu’m. Follow me.”
The convoluted path the maid led Susan along convinced her she’d have never found the room on her own. She’d have wandered for hours, clad in the green robe, never finding her own clothes. But when at last the maid finally pushed open the door, Susan’s scant belongings were there, just as she’d left them.
She quickly discarded the robe and donned her plain cotton dress and sensible shoes. The maid had left without locking the door. Why would she? Yesterday there had been some purpose to keeping her here, untouched. Today there was none.
From this room, Susan knew she could remember her way. She opened the door, walked calmly down the stairs and outside. She kept her head held high, her shoulders back. Not for anything would she reveal to anyone that once she passed through the front gate, she had no idea where she would go or what would happen to her. She fleetingly remembered Anthony saying the women he hired to entertain his friends were well paid, but she would rather starve in the streets than accept a penny from him for what had happened last night.
There must be some way to find an employment agency. Once she reached one of the more commercial areas, she would look for some passer-by to ask.
She walked toward the corner, her bag swishing against her skirts with each step. She didn’t know she was being pursued until a hard, masculine hand gripped her shoulder, forcing her to a halt.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Anthony’s voice grated.
She refused to be intimidated. “I don’t know.”
He spun her to face him. “You don’t know? You walked out of my house, out of my bed, with, we both know, not a penny to your name,” he shouted, oblivious apparently to the interested gaze of a pair of early morning workers going about their business. “I’ll ask you one more time. Where do you think you’re going?”
“I don’t really know,” she repeated. Even to her own ears, her voice sounded thin and wavering.
“Well I do!” he snapped. “You are going to turn around and go back into my house. Now!” he ordered when she failed to move fast enough.
He snatched her bag from her hand then strode off. If she wanted to regain any of her possessions, she had no choice but to follow him.
He marched with her scurrying behind him, up the front steps.
“I should use the servants’ entrance,” she muttered. “You could…”
“I’ll be damned if I’ll use the servants’ entrance and neither will you,” he thundered. He stalked past the bewildered butler, who had opened the door at his single, hard knock. “Come into the library while I find out what sort of maggot has got into your head.”
Susan sputtered a protest, but he seemed in no mood to hear. Since she had no idea what he would do if she didn’t obey, she did as he told her.
He pointed cursorily at a chair. “Sit down.”
When she had done so, he remained standing, pacing the room. “What did I do to make you believe running away, with no prospects whatsoever, was better than staying with me?”
She gasped. She’d never intended him to put that interpretation on her actions. “I didn’t. You didn’t.” She stopped to gather her incoherent thoughts. “You said yourself you hired women for one night to entertain your friends. The night had finished…”
“I never let you near my friends,” he roared. “You were not hired. You were sent to me in an act of malice.”
Her heart fell at the cruelty of the word. She knew she hadn’t been what he’d expected, but she thought he’d found some pleasure in their night together.
She hung her head, but couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Now,” he said, more calmly. “What is your mother’s address?”
The question snapped her out of her silence. “You aren’t going to… You can’t mean to tell my mother about this!”
“We’ll have to tell her sometime. We can hardly keep this a secret.”
She disagreed violently, but before she could voice her protest he’d gone on, “I wish to send her some money straight away. She and your sisters need relief urgently. You came to London to get help for them.”
“I came to get help from Charles,” she protested. “He’s my half-brother. He should have taken care of us. I can’t let you send them money. I’m not… I don’t want…”
Her face flamed and her stomach churned with bitter acid. She had given herself to him, not sold herself. Never sold herself. How could she ever make him understand?
He stopped pacing and came over to her, dropping onto his knees beside her. “I am afraid I fail to see the basis for your concern. Society expects a man in my position to provide for his wife’s family.”
Waves of darkness washed in and out at the edges of her vision. She felt faint. She knew she must be hallucinating. “M-marry? A wife?”
He smiled. “That is how one customarily gets a wife. By marrying her.”
“But, you don’t want to marry me?”
“I do. I will.” He took her hand. “I knew from the moment I saw you that you were special. Fresh. So full of spirit. From the moment I first made love to you, I knew I would never let you go.”
He dropped a kiss on her hair then stood. He pulled himself to his full, imposing height, and put his hands behind his back. He looked powerful and determined. “Even if you don’t feel the same way about me, I cannot allow you to do anything but marry me. You haven’t considered the possible consequences of our night together. I wouldn’t allow any child of mine to suffer in any way when I could provide him or her with the life they deserve.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
He went on regardless. “Let me assure you not everyone experiences the levels of joy we found with each other last night. I know the sex wasn’t abhorrent to you.” His voice caught, and his bearing lost some of its rigidity. “Susan, surely your enjoyment, and the love you bear for your family, is enough to convince you to accept my proposal.”
A frown had formed between his eyes. Lines bracketed his mouth. Susan saw these signs with wonder. He was worried. He
had not made a mere proposal in form. Her answer really mattered to him.
She felt a smile stretch her lips as she surged to her feet. How could she say no? How could he imagine she would not want him? Hands outstretched, she went to him. “Yes. Oh yes. I will marry you. Not because you have promised to care for my family. Not because there may be a child. Not because I may have nowhere else to go. I will marry you because nothing else could ever make me so happy. No one else could make me feel as you do.” She flung her arms around him in the wild abandon he’d taught her to embrace. “Yes. Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.”
He lowered his head and kissed her—deeply, passionately, a promise of all to come in their life.
After he lifted his head, he led her over to his desk. “I will write a draft to my bank and have money sent to your mother immediately.”
When he’d finished writing, he reached out to pull the bell cord hanging nearby. A footman arrived. “Have this delivered at once. Make sure a breakfast tray is prepared and brought to my room,” Anthony ordered.
The footman backed out, and Anthony took her once more into his arms. “For now, my love, I think the only table I will allow you to grace is my own. The way we choose to eat, we will need our privacy.” With that, he led a very willing Susan out of the door.
In the bedroom, he let go her hand. He grasped the two sides of her faded cotton gown and tore it asunder. “I hate that dress,” he said. “Never again will you wear something so unfit for your beauty.”
He dispensed with her petticoats and camisole in the same abrupt way. His masterfulness pleased her, but she couldn’t help but wonder, “What will I wear?”
“Whatever I choose to dress you in,” he replied, his eyes blazing. “At the moment, nothing at all.”
A light scratching at the door interrupted him. He strode over to open it no more than a fraction. When he turned back, he held a heaped tray in his hands. He walked toward her, kicking the door closed with his boot as he did so.
