Badcock

by Debra Glass

  He rubbed and kneaded the swollen spot while his other finger began to slip in and out of her rosette. This was too much. She couldn’t tolerate it. With an animalistic moan, she began to ride his hand, rocking, moving any which way she could to assuage this burning need.

  Her body took over her pleasure and she stopped trying to bring herself to orgasm. Instead, she surrendered to his invasion, feeling herself soften and open, and then bliss crowned. Intense spasms racked every part of her he touched. Trembling, she accepted it, let it inundate her, let it carry her soaring to that place she only went when she was with Jack.

  At some point, she realized he’d released her and that she still stood, bent over the table with her multitude of skirts and petticoats ruched up. She inhaled, the mere act of breathing causing her to throb anew.

  His hands reached under her torso and he gently lifted her to her feet. Knees weak, she faltered and would have fallen were it not for his strong arms about her.

  A smile stretched his lips. “We should get you out of these clothes.”

  Still dazed, she nodded and leaned back against the table as he unhooked and untied and unfastened. Layer by frilly layer, her clothes fell away until she stood, wearing only her petticoat. Slippers and stockings followed. The grin never left his face—in fact, it widened—as he gingerly withdrew the wilted ostrich plume from her hair. “What do you find so amusing?” she asked.

  “You’re a mess. Your powder is streaked. And…what’s this?” he asked, peeling a silk beauty mark from her face.

  “Mama insisted.”

  Jack flicked it off his finger. “I insist that you look natural.” His gaze appraised her. “Come, would you like to bathe?”

  Sophia scanned the room. “There’s no bathing tub here.”

  “Ah, but there is the most delightful little stream just behind the lodge,” he said, weaving his fingers with hers. He tugged and she knew any protest would be futile. Besides, it would be freeing to wash the remnants of pomade and powder from her hair, to feel her locks hanging loose.

  Barefooted, she followed Jack outside. The rain had let up so that now, only a dwindling drizzle remained. Droplets of water dripped from tender spring leaves. Sophia marveled at the feel of the mushy woodland carpet under her feet. She’d never been barefoot outdoors before. She had the feeling that with Jack, she’d be doing many things she’d never done before.

  When they arrived at the bank of the creek—Jack had been understating when he’d referred to this as a stream—he began removing his clothes and throwing them over the branch of a tree.

  Sophia watched in awe. Would she ever become accustomed to the sight of his naked form? After he pulled off his frockcoat, waistcoat and shirt, her hands ached to move over his broad shoulders and down his muscled arms. Even the removal of his boots seemed deliberate. Teasing. Her mouth went dry as he pushed down his breeches, revealing his manhood. His expended cock jiggled with his movements against its nest of black curls. Lower, his sac hung high and tight to his body, tempting Sophia to explore that part of him as well.

  With him now, she held no shame in displaying her own nudity or looking upon his. Instead, she admired him as God’s ultimate perfection on earth.

  Chuckling, he took himself in his hand and playfully shook his cock at her. Sophia giggled and as Jack stepped into the creek, she wrenched off her petticoat.

  He offered his hand. “Much better,” he said as she stepped into the cold, briskly moving water.

  She shivered. “It’s cold.”

  “It’s a bit deeper in the center,” he said, leading her in that direction.

  Sophia delighted in the feel of smooth pebbles and soggy silt between her toes. “I can’t swim,” she confessed.

  “It’s not that deep,” he assured her. He was right. In the very center of the creek, the water was only hip deep on him and waist deep on her.

  He drew her against him and gave her a quick kiss before he dipped her backward into the water. Sophia clung to his muscled arms as he laid her head in the water so the swiftly moving water could wash away the concoction of powder and sticky pomade. Her feet lifted and she wrapped her calves around Jack’s sturdy thighs. His hands moved under her back and he held her so that she floated while she washed her hair clean.

  When she was through, he helped her stand. Her body countered his in the water and she luxuriated in the feel of his wet skin and the current rushing between and around them. His eyes moved over her face. “I’m pleased you chose this. That you chose me.”

  His words slammed her with the thought that right now, she would be marrying Lord Wisbech if she’d stayed in the coach. Any qualm she had that she’d made the wrong decision evaporated in Jack’s embrace. Yet even in her happiness, she could not forget the fact that he was still obligated to another.

  What did it matter? Few people—especially aristocrats—married for love. She was foolish to think a marriage license would change anything between them.

  “You’re trembling,” he said. “I’ll build a fire and you can rest a bit.”

  * * * * *

  Ralph gaped incredulously at Sophia’s parents. Lord Bainbridge’s buckled shoes were muddied. His hair escaped his queue and hung in damp strands. Lady Bainbridge’s eyes shone and tear tracks marred her face powder. Why were they so late? And where was Sophia?

  His gaze flicked past them and his stomach tightened with the knowledge something was terribly wrong.

  The church overflowed with impatient guests who murmured amongst themselves and Ralph knew the whispers were about him. About Sophia. He inhaled a shaky breath.

  Lord Bainbridge cleared his throat and leaned in so close Ralph could smell the sweet powder in the man’s hair. “My daughter has been abducted—again.”

  Ralph blinked. “She was what?” he raged. His gaze flew from Sophia’s father to her worried mother and then back again.

  All the guests were assembled. The vicar was ready. This was impossible.

  Lord Bainbridge rubbed his jaw. “She was abducted by the same highwayman,” he said, his voice low and hot.

  Ralph shook with anger. His temper flared and he struck his fist against the stone wall of the church.

  “This is a house of God,” Lord Bainbridge said under his breath with a glance at the wedding guests waiting for the bride to arrive. “I’m positive we can set the authorities on this outlaw and find her.”

  Ralph fumed. He’d counted on her dowry to get him out of his financial straits. Heat rose from his neck to his face. He felt as if he would burst. “I don’t want to find her,” he seethed. “I want what’s due me.”

  Lord Bainbridge glared. “This was no fault of mine. If anyone is to blame, you are for allowing the scoundrel to take her in the first place.”

  “Don’t put this off on me, Bainbridge,” Ralph hissed. “She went willingly with that brigand.”

  A muscle in one of Bainbridge’s eyes twitched and Ralph knew it was the truth. He also knew he was indeed to blame. If only he’d insisted the highwayman take the ring instead of Sophia. He wanted to stamp his foot but forced himself to resist the impulse.

  Instead, he heaved a great breath, turned on his heel and stalked from the church amid the gawking and guffawing guests. “What kind of thief takes a woman over a valuable jewel?” he asked himself aloud once he was outside. His heart pounded. Something was vastly amiss. What would a common outlaw want with Sophia? Ralph simply could not figure out this intolerable situation.

  Ralph scoffed at the sight of the carriage decorated with flowers waited to spirit the newlyweds away. Sophia had humiliated him in front of every member of the haut ton. How dare she!

  When he found her, he would wrap his fingers around her slender neck and squeeze until she was dead. Even now, his fingers ached to do the deed. He clenched his fists. The bitch!

  But more pressing than this ignominy was his financial state. What would he do for money? Even if she returned, he could never marry now, not with such
a dark cloud of scandal over her head. He would be disgraced.

  Disgraced!

  “Your grace,” a voice called.

  With a sharp snort, he whirled to discover Lady Huntingdon. Something mischievous flashed in her eyes as she lifted her rose colored skirts to chase after him. What the devil did she have to be smug about?

  Once she caught up to him, she stopped and placed a bejeweled hand over her heaving bosom as she caught her breath. “I know where Sophia is,” she said, winded. “And with whom.”

  Chapter Eight

  Sophia lay on her stomach as Jack traced lazy circles on her back with the tip of his finger. Bathed and at least temporarily sexually sated, she floated. She’d never been so entirely relaxed in her life. Here, she had no worries. No cares.

  All that mattered to her was pleasing Jack. Society’s rules did not apply here.

  Twisting onto her side, she regarded her lover. “Am I a wanton?” she asked.

  His black eyebrows knitted together. “A wanton? Why ever would you ask such a thing?”

  She swallowed. “Because I…because I’m here.”

  “That doesn’t make you a wanton, love,” he said, brushing a kiss against her forehead. He toyed with a damp strand of her hair.

  She sighed. “But I allowed you to…to…We’ve done things that are…sinful,” she said, gazing at him from under modestly lowered lashes.

  At that, a smile played on his sensuous lips. “And will do them again and again and again.”

  Suddenly, coy, she batted her eyes playfully. “It’s not just that,” she told him. “It’s that I…I want you to do those things to me.”

  “Be very specific,” he teased, curling a lock of her hair around his index finger. “Tell me in vivid detail what you would like me to do. I am your most humble and willing servant, my lady.”

  She giggled and slapped his shoulder lightly. “I’m being serious.”

  He waggled his eyebrows at her. “So am I.”

  She groaned. “Seriously, Jack. The last time you brought me here, you thought I was someone else. Someone who desired to be…spanked and…and punished.”

  Chagrined, he grimaced. “I apologize. I will never spank your delectable little arse again.”

  “No!” she said quickly. “What I’m trying to tell you is that…what I’m asking is am I a wanton because I enjoyed those things?”

  He laughed. “Of course not, love. Many women enjoy tantalizing torments.”

  “But why? Why would I find being…spanked by you…pleasurable?” she asked.

  “I don’t know but I would venture to guess that perhaps you enjoy having your control taken from you. Without the ability to say no, you have permission to indulge in your most secret desires,” he said.

  He made sense. She’d been taught all her life that women were to merely endure copulating for the sake of siring offspring. But Jack had only spilled his seed in her the one time.

  It was as if he weren’t interested in creating sons. Was it because she was not and would never be his wife? And although she’d already avowed her love for him—and knew without a doubt that she’d love this man until her death—he’d never divulged any feelings for her.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked. “You seem pensive. You don’t regret your decision, I hope. Because I fear it’s too late to turn back now.”

  “No,” she said. “I will never regret it. I hope you don’t, either.”

  “Darling, no,” he said, drawing her closer. “No. Never.”

  She averted her gaze. “But you…I know how children are created and you…you don’t…you haven’t…”

  “Sophia,” he said, surprised. “Do you want my children?”

  “I—”

  “I was protecting you,” he said. “I want you. I want us to enjoy one another and if there comes a time when you desire children, I shall certainly give them to you. As many as you want.”

  She bit her bottom lip. She’d never considered he might care enough about her to protect her from becoming pregnant. Suddenly, she loved him more than ever because it was abundantly clear to her that she was completely safe with this man.

  “But for now, let us explore each other,” he whispered. “Let me do all the things to you that please you.” His warm hand drifted down her side and over her hip. His touch reignited her desire. Liquid heat unfurled in her abdomen and pooled between her legs.

  “I want to do all those things with you,” she said. Her gaze penetrated his so there would be no mistaking her intention. “Right now.”

  His pupils enlarged, nearly obliterating the blue. He took her face in his hand and kissed her. His lips plied hers gently at first and then with insistence. Her stomach somersaulted when his tongue slipped through the opening she left for him. That was all it took. With a soft growl, he began to devour her. His hand grazed down her body, stopping to caress her breast and tug her nipple, then lower, skimming her belly to dip between her legs.

  He dragged his mouth from hers. Intoxicated with need, she blinked, trying to focus.

  “If, at any time, you wish me to stop, merely say stop,” he said. “You may protest all you want. Tell me no. Tell me you cannot bear it any longer. But when you tell me to stop—when you use that word—I will stop. Do you understand?” he asked.

  Comprehension emerged that he had offered her a password. He intended to take her to the very edge and beyond and all the control belonged to her with one word. Stop. She nodded.

  Her pulse accelerated.

  He threw back the covers and climbed out of the bed. “Get up,” he ordered. “Bend over and put your hands on the table.”

  Sophia swallowed thickly. What had she done? For what had she asked? Her body tingled in anticipation as she crawled out of the bed and padded to the table. Her mouth went bone dry as she watched him pilfer through the chest of drawers where he’d kept those delicious vices for her nipples the last time she’d been here.

  She had an inkling of what he was after because he’d threatened her with it earlier. Her pearl swelled.

  He withdrew the leather strap he’d used on her bottom the time before and looked back as if to gauge her reaction. She gulped but she did not protest. No matter what he said, she knew her behavior smacked of lurid licentiousness.

  She actually anticipated—welcomed—being whipped like a wayward child. She loved bending to his will, being given permission to enjoy all the sensations her body had to offer to the fullest.

  “I predict you will rebel when I force you to wear this,” he said, lifting a stubby, cylindrical shaped object out of the drawer. It was nearly as big around as Jack’s cock but only half as long.

  Even from here, she could see that it was covered with smooth leather and thicker at the base than at the top. The base tapered like some sort of stopper. Attached to it were several lengths of thin leather strips that looked like a pony’s tail.

  Rebel was hardly the word! He couldn’t shove that thing up inside her. It was impossible. It would never fit. It would hurt! But oh, his finger had felt good in there.

  Her heart drummed against her rib cage.

  Stop hung on her lips but she inhaled, not yet ready to utter her codeword. Her rim tightened as if she could resist his invasion.

  Along with the strap and the object intended for her bottom, he also brought with him a jar and the rope he’d used to tie her to the rafter before. He placed the object on the table in front of her. Sophia felt her eyes widen. Up close, it looked even bigger than before.

  She tried to blot out that he’d originally acquired the thing for Lady Huntingdon’s pleasure but somehow, knowing another woman desired such tortures—even a woman as reprehensible as Lady Huntingdon —gave Sophia a dash of comfort.

  The leather strap licked the back of her thighs and she yelped.

  “Bend over,” he told her.

  At once, she bent so that her torso rested on the smooth, cool wood. Her channel clenched furiously.

  Laying t
he strap aside, he removed the lid from the jar and liberally coated his fingers with some sort of greasy substance. “This will aid this particular little toy’s entry into your tight little asshole. Spread your legs.”

  Trembling, Sophia inched her feet apart. Her breathing grew shallow as Jack generously spread the goo over and around her rosette. Her eyes closed. She’d never dreamed she would derive such pleasure from that part of her body but when his finger slipped inside, she tensed and lifted her chest off the table.

  His hand quickly left her as he snatched the strap and applied it once more to her buttocks. “Stay down!”

  Immediately, she dropped to the table once more. Heat prickled and licked through her bottom and thighs. Her pulse throbbed in her temples and behind her eyes as his finger sought her hole again.

  Biting her lip, she endured the fire rimming her anus as he pushed inside. Almost at once, the pain subsided, leaving only a need to be filled there, to be violated there. He withdrew the one finger and then she felt something thicker intruding. Two fingers?

  “Relax,” he told her and she exhaled, feeling herself soften to his encroaching fingers.

  “That’s it,” he cooed.

  Just when she was beginning to accept him, he removed his fingers yet again. Sophia ached around her own emptiness but she quickly realized that she void she experienced would not last long. Jack coated the leather phallus with the cream and slid behind her once more.

  “Tell me you want this in your arse,” he said.

  Her lips parted but she could not utter the words. Asking for someone to insert such a rude-looking object into her most private recess was unthinkable. She whimpered.

  Smack!

  One hand landed smartly on her bum while the other teased the outside of her hole with the tip of the toy. “Say the word,” he said. “I will not proceed without your acquiescence.”

  Even knowing what was coming next, she shook her head.

  Slap!

  She shook, imagining the red handprints on her pale flesh, luxuriating in the fire blazing in her backside.

  “Tell me to put it inside you,” he said. “Tell me you want to wear my little gift. Tell me you want me to stretch you so my cock can fill you there.”