Badcock

by Debra Glass

  Her nipples swelled. Her cunny creamed. And before she could stop herself, she said, “Put it inside me.”

  Slowly, insidiously, the slick, smooth leather breached her rim. Sophia held her breath as her body wondrously stretched to accommodate its girth. Her anus seemed to gobble the device up and squeeze tight around the tapered bulb at the bottom. Instinctively, she cupped her own breasts and pinched her nipples between her fingers.

  Her bottom felt so deliciously full.

  He swished the strips that formed a tail so that they tickled the backs of her thighs. “What a pretty tail you have, little pussy cat.”

  Squeezing her legs together, she rocked, enjoying the sensations unfurling within her. Awareness teased her that he was doing something with the rope. Throwing it over one of the rafters again? She didn’t care. All that mattered was assuaging this lust rampaging through her body.

  His voice dragged her out of her pleasure. “Stand up for me.”

  “No,” she said. There was no possible way she could stand with this thing inside her.

  “Bad kitty,” he said and smacked her ass again.

  She groaned. Being spanked felt even better with this toy embedded in her bottom.

  “Stand,” he commanded.

  Her head swam as she pushed her torso up with her hands.

  “Look between your legs,” he said smugly.

  She glanced down, bending slightly so she could see the fine leather tendrils snaking halfway down her thighs. It did indeed look like a tail.

  He took her hands and secured each one with the two ends of the rope and then, reaching behind to wiggle the toy inside her, he planted a possessive kiss on her lips.

  The fingers of his other hand found and tweaked one of her nipples. Hands bound, Sophia writhed helplessly against him.

  And then, with a suddenness that shocked her, he dipped and lifted her thighs over his shoulders. She held tight to the ropes as he stood, hoisting her legs with him.

  Big hands cupped her bottom, guiding her treasures to his hungry mouth. Sophia dropped her head back, hanging as he devoured her, alternately sucking at her nubbin and then spearing her channel with his tongue. The combination of his mouth, his hands, and the plug stuffed up her ass while she hung from the rafters was almost more than she could tolerate. The pleasure was so good, so overwhelming, all she could do was accept it. She heard long, low moans and realized they were own.

  The tips of his fingers worked the plug so that she was constantly reminded of its presence in her hole, the same way his tongue prodded her channel so that she knew she was open there.

  Wrestling the ropes, she used them to grind herself against his mouth. She gripped him with her thighs, fighting him for the pleasure he gave her. The leather tail swung, further enhancing the sweet torture the device offered.

  Ecstasy built and Sophia clung to the ropes, using the tension to arch up and toward him. The orgasm she experienced was like none other she’d ever had. Spasms rolled from both holes, sending the sweetest vibrations through her limbs, to her toes and fingers, even to her scalp.

  She rode his mouth until the last frenzied throe tailed off. His hands softened and he gently lowered her. But instead of setting her on the floor, he impaled her on his bone-hard cock. She gasped at the sensation of his phallus in her channel while the thick plug was still lodged in her ass.

  Mindless, she cleaved to the ropes with her hands and to his hips with her legs as he pumped with relentless abandon into her.

  “Does that feel good to you?” he ground out, his voice punctuated by his forceful thrusts.

  “Yes.”

  “I can feel that toy up your bum with the head of my cock,” he told her.

  Sophia could not utter a word. She felt so thoroughly full, so whole, that she was rendered senseless. Her arms ached. Her wrists burned. Her bottom ached. Her backside stung where he’d spanked her. The muscles in her legs strained as she fought for a hold. The pressure of his groin grinding her sensitive clitoris was far too much and once again, she found herself lolling in the throes of an intense orgasm.

  She soared, drifting in sensation until finally she realized she was standing, hanging limply from the ropes while he worked to untie her. She sighed. “Oh, my. That was amazing.”

  When her hands were free, she rubbed her wrists and then turned to place her hands on the table. “Get this thing out of me.”

  The swat that landed on her backside surprised her. Startled, she looked back to find him grinning. “Oh no, pussy cat,” he said as he sat, his legs sprawled wide. He motioned her to come to him with his fingers. “On your knees, kitten. Suck my cock.”

  A smile pulled at Sophia’s lips as her gaze dropped to his glistening member. She sank to her knees and crawled stealthily toward him. He gave a little laugh and his fingers threaded into her hair as she engulfed him in her mouth.

  * * * * *

  Lord Wisbech’s eyes widened. “The Earl of Stafford and the highwayman are one and the same?”

  Elinor nodded. She gauged Wisbech’s reaction carefully. She’d taken a risk admitting she’d known the highwayman’s identity all along. A big risk. Wisbech could hold her responsible. He might even attempt to name her in a breach of promise suit against Jack and Sophia.

  Lord Wisbech’s face grew increasingly more mottled with rage. This was foolish. She should never have confided in him.

  “How do you know this?” he asked.

  Elinor took a deep breath. She had to lie. It would not do to let Wisbech know how deeply she was involved. “I overheard them planning the deed when we visited Amberley.”

  Wisbech trembled visibly. “She planned to leave me standing at the altar? To embarrass me in front of my peers?”

  Elinor cast her gaze to the ground. “It appears so, my lord.” From under lowered lashes, she regarded him for a moment. His nostrils flared with each breath. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Why didn’t you say anything to me beforehand?” he asked, his voice low and menacing. Murderous.

  “I…I should have. Certainly, I didn’t think she would go through with such a foolish plan. After all, isn’t Lord Stafford engaged to a Pomeranian lady of some sort?”

  Something sinister flashed in Wisbech’s eyes. “Indeed he is, Lady Huntingdon. Indeed he is.”

  * * * * *

  Jack sipped a glass of wine as he watched Sophia doze. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight than her, sated and sleeping with her delicate fist curled loosely against the sheets and her black hair trailing in stark contrast across the white pillowslip.

  Abducting her from her own wedding procession had been pure idiocy. What had he been thinking?

  And yet, he did not, for one moment, regret it. No matter what damage their relationship would cause her in society, she would still be better off with him than with Lord Wisbech.

  Jack had always remained aloof when it came to the affairs and deportment of others but he could not allow himself to stand idly by, knowing that Wisbech had a penchant for physical cruelty. The thought of that bastard laying a hand on Sophia enraged Jack.

  Besides, society reeked with debauchers and debauchery. Jack could not imagine Sophia becoming a disenchanted harridan like Lady Huntingdon. Despite all the things they’d done together, Sophia was still very innocent and very emotionally fragile.

  Keeping her that way was the least he could do, especially after he’d stolen her innocence—and her hopes for an advantageous marriage.

  A pang of guilt threatened to rise but Jack tamped it back down.

  No use feeling guilty now. The deed was done. She was his mistress now.

  His.

  Knowing that at least some part of her belonged to him evoked something possessive and carnal within him. Nothing could dampen the physical desire he had for her. With his past dalliances, he’d always been able to walk away, to forget. Not with Sophia.

  Her face, her words, her kisses, her touch had haunted
him since that day he’d put her in a coach and sent her away. When he’d found out she wasn’t Lady Huntingdon, he’d been unable to stay away from her.

  He drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. He should have stayed away from her. When his father died, Jack had promised himself that he would be the responsible man his father had been. He’d put aside his trifling behavior, his heavy drinking, the gambling—all of it. He’d made a good match with Lady Hilda. And now…

  Now all he could think about was spending every waking hour with Sophia. He wanted to protect her, to please her, to feel her arms around him and to hear her whisper the words he’d heard her say that day in his garden. I love you.

  His insides churned.

  I love you.

  Other women had avowed their love for him but he had never believed them. He hadn’t wanted to believe Sophia.

  And yet…

  He warmed at the memory of her standing in the pouring rain and putting her hand in his earlier this morning. A smile played on his lips when he recalled how ridiculous the wilted ostrich plume looked in her carefully coifed hair. Even then, he’d wanted to strip the powder and plumage and panniers away. On Sophia, it seemed false and foolish. He wouldn’t care if she ever put another stitch of clothes on her body. His cock stirred at the thought of keeping her perpetually naked.

  How wonderful it would be if he could shirk his duties and society so he would never have to be separated from her for an instant. A dark cloud descended on his thoughts. His own wedding was only weeks away.

  He buried his face in his palm and massaged his throbbing temples with his fingertips. This with Sophia could not have come at a worse time in his life.

  He had a responsibility to his title, his servants and staff, not to mention the estate. Part of that responsibility meant siring an heir—with a wife. His stomach twisted. Why did the thought of being with another woman rankle him so? That had never been a problem before. When he’d been in Paris, he’d had his pick of willing women. Sometimes two a night. Sometimes two at a time. He grinned in spite of himself.

  Sophia turned over and Jack watched the sensuous movements of her legs under the covers—those legs that had been wrapped around his neck earlier. He grinned. His cock lurched and without thinking, he gripped and squeezed it.

  He couldn’t get enough of her. He would never get enough of her. No matter whom he married. In one gulp, he downed the rest of his wine and then gained his feet.

  It was high time Sophia awakened from her nap.

  Jack sat on the edge of the bed and trailed his fingertip down her exposed arm. Her skin felt like silk. Soft. Smooth.

  She moaned softly as he pulled the sheet down. Leaning over her, he kissed the delicate shell of her ear and then raked his teeth lightly along her earlobe. Sleepily, she voiced her pleasure. Jack’s kisses moved to her neck where he nibbled and sucked until he elicited a giggle from her.

  Twisting onto her back, she smiled and for an instant, Jack couldn’t breathe. Trust and adoration shimmered in her dark eyes. She’d never looked more unguarded, more vulnerable—more beautiful—than she did at this moment. He stared, drinking in the sight of her, mesmerized until she broke the spell by reaching for him.

  With a soft growl, he ripped down the covers and moved over her. She welcomed him, opening her thighs and reaching to guide his hard cock into her channel. He sighed as he sank into the tight, wet heat of her sheath.

  Her body was soft in all the right places. Her nipples stabbed at his chest. Her legs wound around his. Her hands roamed over his back, her nails dragging deliciously against his skin.

  Burying his face in her hair, he breathed in the sultry scent of her. With all the powder and perfume washed away, he inhaled that fragrance that belonged only to her, reveling in the scent of sex and skin—and Sophia.

  “Oh, Jack,” she whispered.

  Her body rose beneath his, countering his slow, deliberate thrusts. Out, in. Out, in again. Sophia. He cupped her head in his hand, anchoring her as he braced to penetrate her farther, faster.

  Her thighs parted wider. His groin ground hers and his sac pushed up hard against her bottom. The harsh sounds of their breaths mingled with the wet suction of their lovemaking.

  He ached for release. Oh yes, almost there… But no. Sophia had not found her own release yet. Difficult as it was for him, Jack pulled out and moved down. Sophia’s fingers threaded into his hair as he sought out her cunny. He moaned as his lips closed over her swollen clitoris. Her essence filled his mouth. He chewed her, sucked her, drank her. Sweet and sexual, her cream drove him wild with the urge to bury himself in her once more. A frisson shook her body and her fingers tightened in his hair. The idea that he was giving this pleasure to her flooded him with emotions he could not identify. All he knew was he wouldn’t stop until she cried his name.

  The muscles in her legs tensed and when he pushed a finger inside her channel, she bucked up hard against his mouth. He clung with his lips, sucking and tonguing relentlessly, holding her to prevent her wriggling away as her back bowed so that only her shoulders and head were left touching the bed.

  Jack continued his oral onslaught until she grew limp in his arms, until she cried, “Stop, Jack!” Then he reared over her and drove into her intent on placating this unquenchable lust.

  Chapter Nine

  Lord Wisbech trailed his finger down the barrel of one of his deceased father’s dueling pistols. The honorable thing to do would be to call Lord Stafford out, demand satisfaction.

  Lifting the pistol out of the case, he drew in a sharp breath. Wisbech curled his finger around the trigger and aimed the pistol at the wall, imagining leveling it on Stafford. A burst of wicked joy filled him with pleasure. Holding his chin high, he straightened and squeezed the trigger. The hammer clicked but Wisbech only wickedly imagined the explosion of gunpowder.

  Calling Stafford out would be the honorable thing but hardly the prudent thing to do. Wisbech sneered. He’d heard of Stafford’s reputation with a pistol. Gossip abounded that Stafford had wounded several and killed at least one man in duels during his time abroad. Challenging him would hardly be sensible.

  Ralph snorted. Sophia wasn’t worth the risk.

  Casting the pistol aside, he downed his snifter of brandy in one gulp. Every nerve in his body was taut to the point of snapping. He felt as if he’d been rendered impotent. Bringing a breach of promise suit against Sophia would be expensive and even if he won the suit, he didn’t have the funds to file it. Besides, courts were loath to award a man damages, as it was widely considered a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.

  Was there nothing he could do to get satisfaction?

  Sophia and Stafford had humiliated him beyond common decency and Ralph knew he would not be satisfied until he had been vindicated.

  Perhaps the delightful and conniving Lady Huntingdon would have an idea.

  * * * * *

  “But I don’t want to leave this place,” Sophia said as she nestled into Jack’s embrace.

  He chuckled softly. “We can’t stay here forever. And besides, we drank the last of the wine.”

  Sophia smiled but inwardly she wished they could remain here where the outside world seemed far away, where she could linger in Jack’s arms and pretend he was not betrothed to another.

  “I’m afraid of what Lord Wisbech will do,” she confessed.

  “Afraid? Of that halfwit?” Jack pulled her even closer so that her forehead rested against his chest. “Why? Did he threaten you?”

  She worked her fingers through the soft dusting of hair there. “Once.”

  Jack’s body tensed and Sophia regretting confiding in him.

  “When?” he demanded.

  “After Lady Huntingdon’s party,” she said. “It was nothing really. He just told me not to embarrass him again.”

  “Or what?” Jack asked, obviously aware that she hadn’t related the entire encounter.

  She swallowed. “He said…” She blink
ed and tried to draw away from Jack. Intuitively, she knew nothing good could come of telling Jack how Ralph had threatened her.

  Jack, however, did not release her. His arms tightened. “What did he say to you?” he asked. “I’ve heard of his reputation. A mean sort, that one.”

  Mean was hardly the word to describe Ralph. Cruel was a far better summation of his character. “I’m sure it was just an idle threat,” Sophia said.

  “No matter. What did he say?”

  “He said…he said he would kill me,” Sophia confessed.

  Jack drew in a sharp breath and expelled it with deliberate slowness. “I won’t lie to you, love,” he said. “After you visited me with Lady Huntingdon, I inquired as to his character.”

  Sophia’s heart skittered. After telling her their meeting had been a mistake, he’d cared enough to ask after her. She batted her lashes against the hot tears in her eyes. “What did you learn?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  “He’s a tyrant who flogs his servants for the least infraction—and he’s impoverished.”

  “Impoverished?” Sophia wrenched herself from Jack’s embrace and propped on her elbow. “What?”

  “He has no money. None.”

  “The lying bastard,” Sophia said. But, darkly, she remembered him telling her that the only reason he was marrying her was because of her dowry. Her heart twisted that a man would only want to marry her for money. He’d never had even an inkling of love for her. At first, she’d thought she could grow to care for him. After all, he was handsome. He was titled. His houses seemed well appointed.

  When she had agreed to be his wife—or rather when her father had informed her she would be his wife—she’d never known the passion she’d come to know with Jack. She’d always wanted more from Lord Wisbech, some show of affection. But there had been none. None!

  That wasn’t true with Jack. Even now, his hands sought her out, reaching to brush an errant lock of her hair behind her shoulder.

  “Do not concern yourself with Wisbech,” Jack told her.