by Debra Glass
He laughed. “Naughty, naughty,” he teased. “Do I need to heat up that bum of yours to coerce you to play nicely?”
Rage fueled by erotic need burned in her cheeks. “You’ve had your fun. Either fuck me or release me.”
He pulled up one of the chairs and sat. “Come here and bend over my knee.”
“Never!”
He motioned with his fingers. “Come here, you naughty minx. When I’m done punishing you, I will fuck you. Thoroughly. Several times. Do not doubt it.”
Her channel pulsed. Cream oozed down one thigh.
“But not until I’m through,” he said.
She didn’t move.
“The sooner you come to me, the sooner I’ll give you what you desire.” He patted his knee.
She knew what he wanted. He intended to spank her. There was no way she could bring herself to walk over there with these clamps on all the most sensitive parts of her and bend over his knee to submit to a spanking. There just wasn’t.
But the thought of him making good on his promise to fuck her thoroughly, several times, seemed an incentive she could not resist.
“That’s it,” he said and she realized she was walking toward him. “Come here.”
Her heart seemed to pound in her throat as she bent over his lap. He pulled her down, positioning her belly over his thighs. The diamonds swung heavily, tugging mercilessly at her nipples and clitoris. She clenched her fists so tightly her nails bit into her palms.
A warm hand roamed up and down the back of a thigh while the other toyed with one of the baubles hanging from her nipple. She’d heard about men who enjoyed inflicting such tortures on women. She’d never thought she would experience it first hand. And she’d never dreamed she’d love it.
Something about it gave her a sense of inner satisfaction. Normally, being stripped and spanked would be humiliating. But this—with this stranger—was anything but humiliating.
She sensed all of this was meant to inspire pleasure—that he was doing it for her instead of to her.
His fingertips tickled the sensitive flesh between her legs. “I’m going to spank you three times. Once for every time you begged me to fuck you.”
She nodded. Oh yes, get on with it and then fuck me.
“But there’s a catch,” he said. “You must ask for each lick.”
Shame burned in her face and radiated down her spine. Submitting to it was one thing. Asking for it was another.
His fingers lightly pinched the soft flesh of her ass. “Shall we get started?”
Sophia’s breaths came in short gasps. She couldn’t let him do this. But then, she heard her voice as if it belonged to someone else. “Spank me.”
“Mind your manners,” he warned.
“Spank me, please,” she ground out. Her legs trembled.
He chuckled and then swatted her bum so hard she yelped. Heat seared her flesh, the flames licking down her thighs and back up to settle in her sex. She gnawed her bottom lip as he rubbed and massaged her behind until the sting became sweet warmth.
The pain was unlike any she’d ever known. It didn’t hurt as much as it made her aware—so delightfully aware of all the hidden parts of her anatomy she’d been told were naughty to entertain.
Boldness consumed her. “Spank me, please,” she whispered.
Another smack landed on her ass and again he rubbed out the smart sting. Tears inspired by need rolled down her cheeks as she requested yet another smack. “Spank me, please,” she uttered, her voice cracking.
This time, she braced for it, squeezing her eyes shut as the blow fell.
Swat!
She groaned and hung her head, flooded with overwhelming sensations from the clamps and the spanking. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind a shard of disappointment surged that he was through punishing her.
“Untie me,” she moaned, her voice muffled. “Untie my hands. Please.”
Deftly, his fingers worked the knot at her wrists and she was free.
Knowing exactly what was at stake, Sophia pushed herself up and, facing him, she straddled his legs. Eyes dark with desire, he sat motionless as she hastily undid his fall and freed his hard cock. Doing this would most likely mean Lord Wisbech would cast her aside but in her heart, she knew a life as a ruined spinster would be far better than marrying a cruel man like him.
Heart thundering, she slipped the bauble off her clitoris and then raised herself onto him. The head of his phallus breached her defenses and slipped inside. Curiously, the pain that emanated from the loss of her virginity paled in comparison to everything else and she merely winced as she sank onto him. She sighed as he filled and stretched her.
So this was sex? So this was the taboo act that was only supposed to be shared in the marriage bed?
She couldn’t imagine doing—or feeling—this with Lord Wisbech.
“Is that what you wanted?” the highwayman asked huskily.
“Yes,” she whispered, adjusting to the fullness.
She shifted and the physical completion rendered her mindless. Moving restively against him, she clung to his shoulders and pushed at the floor with the toes of her boots until finally he gripped her hips and bounced her rhythmically on his lap.
Time and time again, she came down on his cock hard, tilting so that her that part of her that had been tortured by the clamp raked his body. The jewels on her nipples swung wildly, pinching and tugging until she wanted to scream.
His fingers splayed wide over her bottom, reaching and prodding her sensitive rosette. Sophia no longer cared what he did to her. Nothing was sacred any longer. Every thing, every inch of her body was made for her pleasure and the way he touched her made her feel whole for the first time in her life.
Wanting to feel and experience everything at once, she wrenched up his shirt and explored the hard planes of his chest. So hard. So male. Even in her fantasies, her dream lovers had never been so wonderfully masculine. Everything about him fueled her desire and deep within, she knew he had spoiled her for Lord Wisbech or any other man in her future.
He shifted to give her more ground to grind herself on his groin. New sensations burst within her and she realized she was on the verge. For the first time in her life, she was about to experience ecstasy at the hands of another.
So close. Lurking. Just there. She shut her eyes.
“Let it come with my cock inside you,” he said and that was all the impetus she needed to let go.
Her climax unfurled and snapped like fresh linen on the line, caught in a merciless wind. Her channel pulsed around him and all the while, he encouraged her. “That’s it, love. Yes.”
Her orgasm was wickedly powerful. Shocks of all-encompassing pleasure pulsed from her scalp to her toes and all she was capable of doing was feeling.
A hand cradled her head as she collapsed against his chest. His other fingers traced up and down the length of her spine. His cock still throbbed inside her and as she floated back to earth, she realized he hadn’t experienced his own orgasm. She lifted her head far enough to look into his eyes. “What about you?” she asked.
“You took care of me earlier. From now on, this is for your pleasure.”
She gulped at the thought of him taking her again.
He sat her up straight and released the clamps on her breasts before depositing them on the table. “Did you like that?” he asked with a grin.
She chuckled. “Yes.”
“Good,” he said. “Then you’ll like the other toys I’ve brought for you as well.”
He seemed so at ease, slumped in the chair with a naked woman straddling his lap. His shirt hung haphazardly on his body. His pants gaped. And it struck Sophia that she had never seen a more handsome man in her life.
“What should I call you?” she asked.
A dark eyebrow arched. “How about Bad Jack?” he asked as if he’d never given it any thought until now.
Odd. Most all infamous highwaymen had well-known nicknames but she’d never heard of a Bad
Jack before.
He smiled and pecked her lips with a quick kiss before he set her off his lap. “I brought in some water to heat over the fire. You can clean yourself up a bit.”
He stood and did up his pants before pilfering through a large basket on the table. “Hobbes sent along some cold chicken. I’m famished.”
Hobbes? Since when did highwaymen employ servants?
While he spread out the chicken and other items in the basket, Sophia took the opportunity to clean herself. She noticed a spot of the blood on the cloth he’d provided for her but it was so insubstantial she doubted he’d seen it. She’d told him she was a virgin but he hadn’t seemed as if he’d believed her. In fact, he’d accused her of playing her part well.
“Come. Have something to eat,” he called.
She reached for her habit but he put up a warning finger. “No! No clothes. You are mine for two days and in those two days you will have no need for clothing.”
Two days? He intended to keep her here for two days? What then?
Her stomach grumbled and she eyed the chicken. There was no sense in worrying about what would happen after she left this place.
He had awakened her to a new life and she only wanted to enjoy it before she was shackled to Ralph for the rest of her life—if he would even have her after she’d been compromised by the highwayman.
He poured her wine glass full. “Come love, and I will feed you bite by bite and then I will have my dessert between your legs.”
* * * * *
Lady Huntingdon’s pulse raced as the coach pulled to yet another stop. Already, the broken wheel had put her hours behind and only a mile from the point where she was to meet her lover, John Badcock, Earl of Stafford.
She’d met Jack once before at a masquerade ball. Both clad in masks and costumes, they’d stolen a few moments pleasure in the host’s library. Since then, they’d written clandestinely and had both shared their naughtiest secrets, which they’d planned to enact this very day.
Elinor’s fantasy was to be ravaged by a highwayman and when Jack had come up with the idea of holding up their carriage and snatching her away right from under her husband’s nose, she had squealed with delight.
She’d thought he’d probably given up by now but when the coach rumbled to a stop on the Hounslow Road, hope surged.
Anticipation thrummed in her veins as she peeped out the window but dismay soon set in.
There was no highwayman at all.
Instead, they came upon Lord Wisbech, who’d generously lent his men to help repair their wheel. Wild-eyed, he stood in the road, his fine clothes in disarray.
“Your Grace! What happened?” she asked, but already she had a sinking suspicion she knew what happened.
Lord Wisbech darted to the window. “We were robbed by a highwayman!”
“A highwayman?” Thomas Warwick grumbled. “Which one?”
“How should I know?” Lord Wisbech fumed. “He didn’t exactly introduce himself.”
“How much did he take?” Thomas asked.
“He didn’t take anything,” Wisbech said. “Except my fiancée!”
Elinor gasped. Jack had made off with the wrong woman. “Pardon me,” she said, interlacing her fingers to stop her hands from trembling. Oh, no. No…
No!
She wanted to scream in frustration but she knew she could not.
At this very instant, Jack Badcock was most likely in the throes of ecstasy in another woman’s arms.
Elinor shook with rage. She wanted to divulge his actions, to make him pay. Surely he knew he’d abducted the wrong woman. But then again, it had been awfully dark in that library and they’d had much too much to drink.
The letters she’d written him had been very specific in sexual details. She had wanted to be tied, spanked, titillated—tortured.
She clenched her fists. All those things were happening right now—to that coltish little Jezebel she’d seen accompanying Lord Wisbech!
She reached for the door handle. “Please, step inside our coach. You must be worried sick about—what was her name, again?”
* * * * *
Sophia gripped the headboard. Ecstasy, so intense she could hardly tolerate it, rippled from the inside out. The muscles in her legs drew taut as she wrapped them around the highwayman’s shoulders and held him close. His tongue swirled and speared. His lips feasted. His fingers prodded and probed.
The first orgasm had rolled over her in sudden ferocity. But this one burned and built in a slow and steady climb until she reached a precipice and toppled headlong over the edge.
Her hands found and anchored his head. Her legs fell open and she tilted up and toward him. She’d never dreamed she would find such pleasure with another.
Mewling, she lay helplessly until the last shivers of paradise subsided and melted away.
With a gentleness she didn’t expect him to possess, he kissed the inside of her thigh.
Sophia blinked sleepily and watched him as he kissed his way up her hip, across the slight swell of her tummy, higher. She buried her fingers in his thick hair. “This is heaven,” she whispered.
“Indeed it is,” Jack replied and circled her areola with his tongue.
He could lose himself in those beautiful breasts alone. Moving to the other one, he held and squeezed her tight body. She seemed younger than he remembered. Smaller.
But there were other differences about her.
Hesitant and curious at the same time, she returned his kisses with a reckless lack of restraint. The Elinor he’d known had been a wine-swilling, sexually experienced woman. Suddenly, she seemed more interested in exploring than in satisfying the lust for a new lover.
He raised his head and looked into her hazel eyes. The tiniest smile pulled at her ruby lips. What if…
No.
He shook his head. Her coach had arrived at precisely the time they’d arranged to meet. Besides, he thought as he wrapped a lock of her black hair around his index finger, he would remember her thick tresses anywhere—having only the seen the back of her head the last time he’d fucked her.
He decided to toss out a little test. Just in case. “This time is better, isn’t it?”
“Every time with you is better than the last,” she said.
He relaxed. It was Elinor. Why else would she have come along with him so willingly? Why would she have engaged in such taboo sexual acts without protest if she hadn’t arranged all this through her letters?
“What did you think of your jewels?” he asked.
She smiled. “I never imagined anything could make me feel so…so impassioned.”
He toyed with the chain still skirting her hips. “Excellent. Then we shall surely play with them again later.”
Her eyes darkened, the pupils almost filling the irises to turn them black. “And now?”
“Insatiable,” he muttered as he shifted and prodded her with his cock until it slid inside.
She arched and gasped as he filled her.
“Black velvet,” he said in her ear as he began to move.
“Black velvet?”
“That’s what your cunny feels like. Warm, wet, black velvet.” He pushed slowly all the way in and then dragged back until the head of his cock slipped just out of the opening.
Her hands clawed at his back, his buttocks. She writhed restlessly.
Restraining himself, he raked the head through her folds. “What do you want?”
She groaned. “You.”
He chuckled low. “Tell me what you want. Tell me how you want it.”
“All the way,” she said, tugging.
Her motions were futile. If there was one thing Jack Badcock understood, it was a woman’s desire.
He sucked at her neck, heedless of the marks his mouth left in his wake. “How. Tell me how.”
“Hard. Fast,” she whimpered.
“Don’t be so impatient, love,” he said. “Before you leave here, I will have rutted you so raw you won’t be able t
o walk.”
“Yes, oh yes.” She rocked.
“But now, I want to feel your tight sheath gripping and holding me, milking me,” he said and then traced the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. He drove deliberately inside her and then ground his groin into hers.
Her body hummed beneath his. Her channel squeezed in rebellion as he withdrew. Again, he pushed inside, his eyes fluttering shut as he lost himself in the wonder that was a woman. How long had it been since sex was something more to him than physical release? Perhaps it was the fantasy. Maybe it was the eroticism of the toys, of spanking her, but this—with her—ripped him from the reality of managing his estate, of living up to his deceased father’s too-high standards—and from his pending marriage to a German aristocrat on whom he’d never laid eyes.
Instinct took over and he braced himself on his elbows to rhythmically thrust into her. He pushed all coherent thought from his mind and instead focused only on the physical, on the thrill of infatuation and secret romance.
Up until now, this woman beneath him had been a flirtation. Suddenly, he found himself entertaining thoughts of meeting her on a regular and frequent basis.
Her nails raked down his back sending shivers up his spine. “Pull my hair,” he ground out.
At once, fingers entwined in the hair at his crown and tugged. Hard. “Fuck, yes,” he said along with a string of other unintelligible expletives. His groin slapped hers over and over, faster and faster.
On the edge of explosion, he somehow managed to withdraw his cock. Winding one hand under her body, he held tight while his seed erupted between their bodies.
Temporarily sated, he rested heavily on top of her. She rained kisses against his neck and his shoulder. This was supposed to be a fuck. Nothing more than a fuck. So what was this insane urge he had to cradle her in his arms and hold her?
Without words, he did just that, somehow dragging the covers over their naked bodies as he pulled her into an embrace.
Chapter Three
Elinor paced in her room. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposed to be in Jack Badcock’s bed. The bastard! The least he could have done was send word that he’d made a mistake.
“Miss Sophia Astley,” Elinor sneered the name as if she were uttering the vilest words imaginable.
