Again and Again

by Susan Johnson

  “You don’t take me with you anymore,” she noted with a small petulance.

  He couldn’t help but smile at her jeunesse doree pose. “Perhaps, I may again.”

  “If I please you.”

  “If you don’t displease me. You always please me with your body. It’s your temper that often displeases me.”

  “I’ve changed, my lord. Ask anyone.”

  “We’ll see. Come.” He held out his hand.

  She immediately rolled from the bed in a shimmer of jeweled light and delicious sensation and came to stand before him.

  He ran his hands over the glittering necklaces resting on her breasts. “You do these justice.”

  “I’m pleased you think so, my lord.”

  His erection surged at the docility in her tone. “The eunuchs tell me you’re progressing in your lessons.” He took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and tweaked them lightly. “You’ve not had to be disciplined for your temper of late.”

  “I’ve been on my best behavior, my lord, so I could be admitted back into your good graces. You have but to test my accommodating nature, my lord, and you’ll be gratified, I assure you.”

  With a gentle squeeze, he released her nipples. “Undress me, then, and we’ll see if your temper has improved.”

  “You’ll see it has, my lord.”

  “You must fold my clothes and put them away.”

  His instructions brought a momentary spark to her eyes, but as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. “As you wish, my lord.”

  “And you must be wet for me.”

  “I am, my lord.”

  “I’ll see for myself. Later…” He pointed at the buttons on his waistcoat.

  And she did as she was bid. His coat and waistcoat were removed and folded away, his shirt as well.

  “Now, my shoes,” he said. “Kneel.”

  That small hesitation again, but she obeyed, the descent to her knees, shifting the object inside her, bringing her to a breathless standstill.

  “Are you capable of serving me?” He touched her bent head.

  “Yes.” She drew in a shallow breath. “Yes, my lord.”

  He lifted one foot and she slid off his evening shoe, each movement intensifying the throbbing ache deep inside.

  “Look at me.” He snapped his fingers. “Show me how wet you are.”

  With effort, she concentrated on his words, gazing up past his blatant erection to meet his eyes.

  “Put your finger in and show me that you’re ready.” So might some satrap speak, with utter authority.

  “Here, my lord?” Her voice trembled, all sensation focused on her pulsing need.

  “Yes. There. On your knees.”

  Gently stroking her head as though she were a favorite pet, he watched her finger disappear between her legs, saw her shudder faintly, his erection rising higher in response. A moment later, having regained a modicum of composure, she raised her hand to him.

  “Bring it closer,” he commanded.

  And she lifted her hand higher.

  Her finger was drenched with glistening liquid. He touched it lightly, scooping up a dab of fluid on his fingertip. He raised his finger to one nostril. “I like your smell,” he said, as though he were her vetting agent. “I always have.”

  “You used to say you’d know me in the dark, my lord.”

  He smiled. How many times had he inhaled her fragrance in the dark. “I’d know you anywhere.” Moving his hand, he placed it near her nose so she could draw in the scent of herself. “You’re in rut, I’d say. Are you ready for me?”

  “I am, my lord. May I, in all humbleness, ask the same of you?”

  He glanced down. “Open my trousers and see for yourself.”

  “Would you prefer me kneeling or standing, my lord?”

  He felt his penis swell at the sudden image that came to mind. “Kneeling. So you can take me in your mouth.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  How did she do it? Make him want her even more with that breathy acquiescence? Willing women were a norm in his life, so it wasn’t the compliance, but rather, knowing how rarely Caro yielded her independence that brought him to rut.

  All his senses were riveted on her touch as she slid his buttons free and eased his trousers down. Stepping out of them, he kicked them aside, suddenly past any obligatory folding of clothes. And when she fumbled with the small pearl buttons on his undershorts, he muttered, “I’ll do it”

  A second later he was stepping out of his shorts and a second after that, he sucked in his breath. She’d taken his penis between her hands and was forcing the stiff length downward to her mouth. As she touched the small slit in the tip with her tongue, his breath caught in his throat and when she slid the engorged head past her lips and into her mouth, he felt the silken friction jar his body like a hammer blow.

  Tamping down a ramming speed mentality, he grasped her ruby earrings, exerted a slight pressure and tipped her face up so he could see her eyes. “So docile, darling. You have improved,” he whispered, her eyes huge, her mouth stuffed full. “If you continue to please me, I’ll send for you more often. Would you like that?”

  Unable to speak, she nodded as any well-trained houri would.

  Her meek submission perversely pleased him; he hadn’t realized he was despotic. Or perhaps other women had never inspired his possessive impulse. Take a little more, darling.“ He pulled gently on her earrings, drawing her closer and another portion of his erection disappeared into her mouth. ”Do you like servicing me?“ His voice was hushed, fresh blood pumping into his rigid penis with each powerful beat of his heart.

  She nodded; she couldn’t do more.

  “Would you like me to come in your mouth?”

  She shook her head, wanting him inside her.

  His voice went soft. “Are you refusing me?” And he pushed in further, moving one hand to the back of her head to hold her in place.

  She growled, a low, moody sound that vibrated along his turgid length as though in warning. Then she bit him. Not hard, but enough to gain his attention before pulling away.

  “Are you refusing me?” he asked again, not in play this time, his voice oddly constrained.

  She sat back on her heels, a ravishing surge of lust streaking upward with her heels pressing into her bottom. “I’m as selfish as you,” she said on a caught breath. “And dying for you. You please me now.”

  “Why should I?” He smiled faintly. “If I’m your master and you’re my houri.”

  Her green eyes were dark with passion, the rubies and pearls glittering bright. “You must do it for love,” she said.

  He hesitated, gazing down at the lush woman at his feet-his wife… strange, strange word. “For love,” he murmured, uncertainty echoing in his words.

  “If you oblige me, I might be induced to obey your orders on occasion as well.”

  He grinned; the Caro he knew had spoken. “If it’s worth your while, you mean.”

  “You might find it worth your while to look for those hidden jewels. Have you thought of that?”

  “You always were a little hussy,” he murmured, intrigued and perhaps more remarkably, willing to defer to her. Bending down, he lifted her into his arms. “Very well, la duchesse mine, let’s see what you’re hiding from me.”

  She savored the beauty of the word, mine, feeling as though she was part of Simon somehow, as though she was no longer alone. And whether he knew or whether she fully knew what the future would bring, she was happy. She purred low in her throat from sheer joy and also from the luscious pressure of the jewels inside her. With her legs draped over her husband’s arm and the slight jarring movement from his stride, enchantment was taking on another more tangible form.

  If not aware of his wife’s affectionate musing, Simon understood the physical manifestations that elicited that purr. “Maybe I should just walk around the room while you come.”

  Her gaze was heated. “What a marvelous idea.”

  �
��If I was grossly magnanimous, I might, but I’m as selfish as you.”

  “A fact well known in the world at large.”

  “One can only hope your selfishness isn’t as well know as mine.”

  “If I wasn’t so attuned to my sexual desires, I might take issue with your male double standard.”

  “But since you are…”

  “And you as well.”

  “We’ll fight later,” he said with a grin, gently placing her on the bed. “Now do I get my prize?”

  She patted the bed and the bracelets on her wrist glittered and sparkled.

  But he didn’t lie down beside her. He moved her legs enough so he could sit cross-legged between them, his knees brushing her thighs, the light-weight foretaste of his strength and power. But he touched her mons with a delicate brushing stroke. “Do I have to guess, or may I look?”

  “Guess.”

  “Not the pearl necklace.” He tapped the rope of pearls wrapped around her waist. “And it looks as though a great many rubies are accounted for.” Leaning forward, he ran his palms over her throat and breasts, then down her arms so she felt the metal settings sink marginally into her flesh. “But there were some diamonds weren’t there?” he said, softly, “with pearls…”

  “Maybe.”

  “And if I were to press here, just a little,” he placed his palm on her pouty vulva. “Would you feel that?”

  It took her a moment to respond, for the strumming pleasure to calm enough for her to speak. “You’re an excellent husband.”

  “How excellent?” he whispered, increasing the pressure of his hand.

  She moaned softly and lifted her arms to him.

  “Do you want me inside there, too?”

  She hesitated briefly and then nodded.

  “Are you sure?” The words were heated, bluntly sexual and perhaps not a question after all.

  “Does it matter what I say?” She’d heard the surety in his voice.

  “Maybe,” he murmured. “Let me know.” Spreading her thighs wider with a gentle nudging touch, he moved between her legs with a fluid grace, readying himself to enter her.

  She watched his muscles coil and flex as he shifted his weight, his lithe power always a flagrant aphrodisiac-like his sexual talents. And she felt a renewed glow of happiness quite apart from the heat of passion scorching her senses. He was hers by some curious act of fate-at least now, this moment, she more practically reflected. Curling her arms around his neck, she ran her hands over his muscled shoulders and waited, aching and fevered.

  He was fairly certain what was inside her, but preferred erring on the side of caution. Gore had liked the pearl and diamond bracelet enough to call his attention to it. He should fit if it was the pearls.

  But he slipped a finger inside her first, just to be sure. This was his wedding night, after all. He intended to be up all night and for that, he’d want his wife unscathed.

  “Pearls,” he whispered, touching the bracelet that was strung with small diamonds separating the pearls. Looking up, he smiled at Caro. “We should manage with those. They’re small.”

  “Soon, I hope,” she murmured, trembling at his touch.

  “Yes, dear, your servant, dear.” His voice was low, his finger running the length of the bracelet, smoothing it straight along the length of her vagina. “Stop me anytime,” he whispered, beginning to enter her, holding one end of the bracelet at the very entrance to her sleek passage. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He moved forward slowly, the pressure of his penis forcing each pearl into his flesh and hers, the unreeling friction curling with tantalizing rapture through their heated senses one pearl at a time until he was lodged deep within her body.

  “I’m moving back now.” The pressure was so acute, he felt she needed warning.

  “No, no…” She clutched at him. “Stay.”

  He did for a lengthy interval while she panted in little delirious inhalations and then he moved back just a fraction while she shuddered in his arms.

  “Oh, God…”

  Understanding that particular heated supplication, he moved marginally again and then once again, settling into a rhythm of limited penetration and withdrawal that took all his considerable restraint to maintain.

  The first time Caro climaxed, she said, “Thank you,” afterward with such breathless charm he was reminded of a young girl he once knew. And when she said, “More,” brief moments later, he was reminded of a young lady he once knew. Perhaps he was in a particularly generous mood, because he even disregarded her fretful insistence when she clutched at his shoulders the next time and said, “Right now, damn it,” like some spoiled bitch.

  She was, after all, his darling little bitch.

  After she climaxed numerous times, he finally gauged his hot-blooded wife sufficiently satisfied and withdrew for his own long delayed orgasm.

  But as he pulled out of her jeweled interior, her eyes flew open. “What are you doing?”

  It was impossible to speak, his orgasm already rushing downward.

  She pounded on his chest in outrage.

  But he only tightened his grip on her arms and held her down, his surging, shuddering climax impossible to staunch, all sensation centered in the fevered, orgasmic deluge. He poured his long-contained semen in spurting, gushing jets onto her stomach, gasping at each gut-wrenching spasm, heedless to all but consummation and lust. Until lengthy moments later, completely drained, panting, he slowly opened his eyes to meet her furious gaze.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she hissed.

  It took him a pulse beat to understand, to bring himself back from orgasmic paralysis. “Nothing,” he muttered, rolling off her, shutting his eyes for a fleeting moment. He and his father had rarely agreed on anything, but on the issue of paternity they had. And after the warm embrace he’d interrupted at Netherton Castle, he was taking no chances on the paternity of his heir.

  “Don’t tell me nothing, damn you!” Surging upright, she swung at him, landing a vicious blow.

  He winced, but he didn’t retaliate, steeling himself instead for the inevitable confrontation. He rubbed his stinging jaw. “I thought it might be a good idea to wait.”

  “For what pray tell?” she spat, pulling out the pearl bracelet and flinging it at him.

  He dodged it deftly and it hit the wall with a splat. “You know as well as I do, for what,” he said, looking at the stain on the wallpaper.

  “I’d like to hear it from you.”

  “All right,” he said, gruffly, turning back to her. “I don’t want any question about paternity. I thought it might be wise to wait for your menses.”

  “You don’t trust me.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I can see why someone like you wouldn’t trust anyone. You’ve been telling charming lies to women for years,” she said, tersely.

  “Don’t get righteous on me,” he brusquely rebuffed. “I know you, and if that man only kissed you once, he must be a fucking eunuch!”

  “It would be impossible for Will to simply be a gentleman?”

  His glance was derisive.

  “Did you ever consider I might not have wanted to kiss him?”

  He snorted. “You?”

  “Bloody bastard!”

  “No, I’m not. And that’s the point.”

  “And I have nothing to say about this?”

  “Not at the moment” His voice was as adamant as hers.

  “And when might I?” she inquired, rudely.

  “I’m not arguing about this.”

  “No matter what I say, you won’t believe me?”

  “Jesus, Caro, consider our history,” he returned crossly. “You don’t trust me and I don’t trust you.”

  “I not only don’t trust you, I despise you.”

  “Fortunately for me, that never interferes with your fucking,‘’ he said with withering sarcasm.

  “It certainly will now. You won’t touch me,” she snapped.

  It w
as a particularly inflammatory phrase under the present circumstances; marriage had been an extraordinary undertaking for Simon. He wasn’t likely to concede his conjugal rights. “I’ll touch you when and where I wish,” he growled.

  Scrambling away, she tried to roll from the bed, but he caught her around the waist and swung her around. Dropping her on her back, he said, “Don’t move,” in so unyielding a voice, even in her defiance, she obeyed.

  Ignoring her virulent gaze, he wiped her stomach dry and then cleaned himself with a fastidiousness she took note of with rancor, knowing what dictated his caution.

  When he was finished, he shoved the sheet aside and leaning back on his hands, contemplated her as though debating the manner of his assault. ‘Tell me about Will,“ he said. ”In case it should matter.“

  “I don’t choose to. You’re wrong. You’ll find that out soon enough,” she finished, fretful and sullen.

  “How soon will that be?” Soft, dulcet words that belied the flinty harshness of his gaze.

  “You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?” she snapped, her temper rising. She was never docile long.

  His jaw tightened. “I hope I don’t have to wait nine months.”

  “For your information, everyone’s not a gross libertine like you.”

  “You never had any trouble keeping up.” His brows arched upward in derision. “Or setting the pace on occasion.”

  “I must have been crazed.”

  “That’s one way of putting it,” he jibed. “Let’s hope you didn’t become crazed too often at Ian’s. Remember, I know what you’re like.” His smile was tight.

  Overcome with a moment of discomfort, she wondered if Simon was more right than he knew. Would she have given in to Will at some point? Would she have succumbed to his affectionate advances?

  Was her self-righteousness unfounded?

  “You surprise me, darling. No biting retort? How many men did you fuck in the last five years?”

  “Considerably less than your record with women, I’m sure.”

  ‘That’s not a reassuring answer.“

  “If you were looking for a virgin, you should have thought of that before you forced me into,” she half-lifted her hand, “this bizarre arrangement.”